Newton's Third Law
by ChalkItUp
Summary: "Newton's Third Law states that for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. You are my action, and I am your reaction." This is the story of James Henderson, a 17-year-old from District 7 reaped into the 68th Annual Hunger Games. Reaped alongside a little girl, he must make choices that challenge not only his survival, but his morality. (Complete)
1. Chapter One: The Reaping

_"Survival is triumph enough." -Harry Crews_

* * *

James Henderson sat at the edge of his bed in the early morning; He didn't know whether to fade back into the deep sleep he just awoke from or to wake up and begin the day. Often times he had this debate with himself, the latter option winning every time, but today just staying in bed seemed optimal. That being said, James _couldn't_ go back to bed.

Today was the day of the Reaping.

James had turned seventeen two months ago, and that, coupled with the extra drawings he'd submitted to feed his family, meant that the odds were most definitely _not_ in his favor. If he'd lived in one of the nicer districts, like District 2 or 3, he wouldn't have needed to draw his name, but things weren't exactly posh in District 7, so he entered in his name for the tesserae. One entry for his younger brother, Buck, one entry for his father, and one entry for his older brother, Otto; Otto had been entering in his name, just like James, but he'd turned nineteen the past year and thus was no longer eligible.

James also would have entered in his name twice more, one for his mother and one for his younger brother, Justinian, but both were dead.

 _Dead_. Even the word gave James a sour taste in his mouth. Forcing out the memories of last year, he reached over and shrugged on his pants, throwing on a clean, white T-shirt as he did so; He'd have time to make himself look nice for the Reaping.

When James left his bedroom, which he shared with Otto (who was snoring peacefully), he entered the modest living room/kitchen of his home, and found his father and Buck sitting together. His father, a stoic, burly man with shiny green eyes (Just like James himself), is feeding Buck, a four-year-old, breakfast, some sort of soup, when he glances up at James. His father smiles.

"Hey, dad," yawned James.

"Hi, James," his father replied, ruffling Buck's brown hair before rising. He had on an undershirt, pajama bottoms as old as time, and moccasins (That he may or may not have illegally traded for). This outfit would surely be different in a few hours. "Want breakfast?"

"Sure, what is it?" James asked.

"Chicken noodle soup for Bucky," his father replied, acknowledging the affectionate nickname the family made up for Buck. "For you, though, soup and a little extra." His father reaches into a side cupboard, and pulls out what was left of a rabbit; A few morsels, and two legs.

"Rabbit? You got rabbits?" James grinned, taking his soup and sitting down on their rickety old couch. "Where'd you get it?"

"Ven," he replied.

Ven was the name of a family friend for as long as James could remember; According to his father, they'd been friends for almost thirty years. While both of them officially were lumberjacks, both frequented the black market of District 7, called the Epoch. Ven had been hunting since he was thirteen, and James' father was the best barterer in the whole district. Together they made a great team: Ven would hunt rabbits and squirrels and occasionally a deer in the forests outside of District 7, and James' father would go to the Epoch with the meat and haggle with the shopkeepers there. James had been to the Epoch, an abandoned factory, five times, and each and every time his father would win over the shopkeepers. It was a good agreement between Ven and his father, and often times his father would bring home some extra meat.

"Of course it was Ven," James replied before digging into his meal. Things in District 7 weren't as bad as in, say, 11 or 12, but things also weren't exactly peachy. James' parents had laid down a rule in their house that no food will be wasted, and so far James had been quite good at following it. He was finished with his soup and licking off the last bits of the rabbit leg when he paused. "When do we leave for the Reaping?"

"We'll leave in two hours," his father said. "Get dressed. I've got some trading to do." Without another word, his father disappeared into his bedroom, Buck trailing after him. Buck's only four years old, but has the spirit of a lion. Diet of one too.

James put his dish in the sink, and entered into his own bedroom once more. When he entered, Otto was awake, struggling to button his Reaping shirt. He looked much like James: Brown hair cut short, toned arms, green eyes. If not for his height, people might suspect they were twins.

"Today's the day," James said hollowly, as if Otto didn't know.

"A year since Justinian," Otto replied gruffly, his voice still groggy in the morning light.

Justinian, the younger brother of both James and Otto, was sixteen years old when he was Reaped exactly a year from today. James remembered it not really clicking in his head that his brother was marked for death by the Capitol. Now that he remembers it, it didn't seem to register in Justinian's head either as he staggered towards the podium. Not long after that, he died in the arena. And then his mother fell into a depression and before James' memories can remind him he forces it out of his head. He steps towards Otto, and after a squeeze of the shoulder, buttons up his shirt.

"We'll be fine, O," James said; He's been the only one to ever call his brother that, and Otto tolerates it. Not from anyone else though, just James.

"I know, it's just...I miss them," Otto sighed.

"Me too," James sighed back. "Look, we'll go to the Reaping, get it over with, and come home. Dad says he's gonna go out trading before the Reaping. We might be able to get something nice."

"Cake?" Otto asked, his eyes lighting up like an eight-year-old; Cake was always his favorite food, and while they often ate enough every night, cake was a rare opportunity.

James grinned. "Yeah, cake."

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

Two hours later, James stood looking at a mirror, dressed in his Reaping clothes. His short hair had been styled to the left, and on top of his white T-shirt was a long-sleeved pale-blue shirt with the sleeves buttoned tight. Business pants and leather shoes adorned the lower half of his body.

"Ready?" called his father.

"Ready!" James called back, trotting out to the door of their house. Buck was in formal baby clothes as well, held in the burly arms of James' father. Otto stood by the door quietly, his muscles fighting against his shirt.

"Let's go," James' father said, a sullen tone in his voice.

As his father left their home, James was about to leave when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He craned his neck behind him to see Otto, staring at him. "What?" James asked.

"I can't volunteer for you this year," Otto said, in reference to their pact they made ever since James was made eligible for the Reaping; If either of them were selected, they would volunteer for each other. The pact also included Justinian, but both had broken their legs after falling from a tree last year and couldn't volunteer. James knew there was nothing he could do about it, but he knew Otto couldn't let it go.

"I know, O," James replied. "I won't get picked."

"But if you do..." Otto frowned.

"Then that's gonna suck," James said. "I just wanna get this over with."

"Yeah, right. Me too." He sniffed. "Ugh, this damn cold sucks. Let's go."

James nodded and turned away, pretending that Otto was sniffing because of his sinuses and not because he was getting teary-eyed. He'd never seen Otto cry. Never. He quickened his pace to meet up with his father and Buck, and together the four of them walked through the streets that were now filling up. The entire district was shuffling into the square, from strong-armed lumberjacks to tall carpenters. Here and there he'd pick out one of the more unique jobs, like the Log-Luggers, the men and women who transported lumber from district to district. Otto works as a Log-Lugger after a brief stint as a paper-maker which ended poorly.

After getting his finger printed, James was herded into the area of the square designated for potential tributes, Otto and the rest being confined to the outer areas of the square. Right before he entered the square, he felt his brother tense up next to him. James only turned to him and nodded, and for the first year in his life walked into the square alone. Since older ones went in the front, and James is seventeen, he was placed closer to the stage than he'd like, which only unnerved him more.

He exchanged nods with a few boys and girls he knows from school and sports, but settles on standing next to Grant. Grant, who's older than him by four months, met James in the fifth grade and James can't find a better person to call a best friend. He's not nearly as protective as Otto, but he's gotten James out of a jam more times than he'd like to admit. Grant's also muscular from years of hauling and chopping firewood, but it doesn't show in his Reaping clothes.

"Hey," James whispers.

"Yo," Grant whispers back. "Got my varsity letter."

"You're varsity?" James asks, feeling his eyes widen.

"Yeah, guess I'm not JV now, _chump_ ," Grant snorts, putting on a stupid accent. "Anyway, that means that I'm gonna have to practice more, and you know what that means?"

"That you're not gonna brew as much?" James asks; Grant's father also frequents the Epoch, selling moonshine he brewed in exchange for food. A few years ago, Grant picked up the trade.

"Bingo," Grant replied. "Don't worry, my dad still brews, but I won't be able to get any to you."

"It's fine," James replied. "That moonshine you give us? We don't drink it. My dad carries it in case someone gets hurt."

Grant let out a low whistle. "Smart thinking. Does it actually work?"

"Probably not, but it's cheaper than the actual antiseptic they sell."

"Good point."

Just then, James looked up to see that one of the empty chairs was missing. The other ones held the victors, the escort, and the mayor; The escort, just like last year, is named Bunting, and is a short man with bright-orange hair and a purple suit and is quite possibly the loudest person in Panem. The mayor, a graying man who looks like he doesn't know what sleep is, rubbed his eyes, tired despite all the commotion. The first victor seat is filled by Blight, a taller man with a full head of brown hair and a thick beard; He won the Games seven years ago. He barely remembers the Games, but he's been told that Blight is a very cool-headed man who won his Games through patience.

 _Good_ , James thinks. _Maybe if they make the Games fair this time whoever is picked might have a decent shot at winning._ The second victor of District 7 is Eques, who hurries onto the stage and takes her seat. A bit younger than Blight, she has short-cut but pretty black hair and is tall, taller than Blight, but much thinner. Her crystal-blue eyes shine bright. James also was too young to remember her Games, but he remembers that there were a lot of Mutts towards the end and it was very messy by the time Eques ended up as victor. James' mother also used to tell him that for the better part of the Games, Eques hid out in the woods.

Three other victors fill their seats, but James can't be bothered to remember their names. They won Games years before James was born, and the Capitol tends to invite only two victors to the Capitol.

With everyone important settled, the mayor steps forward, rubbing his eyes, and begins the same speech James had been hearing for years. About how a place called North America fell to natural disaster after natural disaster, how the _great nation_ of Panem rose up from what remained, thirteen districts completing it. Then he moved on to what everyone calls the "Dark Days," when the districts rebelled against the Capitol in a violent revolution that left twelve districts defeated and a thirteenth blown out of the sky. The Treaty of Treason, the document which set out laws to prevent another revolution but more importantly established the Hunger Games.

James has gotten the mayor's speech so well-memorized in his head that he knows the speech word-for-word.

Then the mayor recites the list of District 7 victors. There have been eight, but three died of age or disease, leaving the other five left.

After the mayor is done with his spiel, Bunting hops to the mic, energetically exclaiming, "Good afternoon, District 7! Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be forever in your favor!" His voice is bubbly and it echoes over the whole square. A few people wince and touch their ears.

Grant suppresses laughter by popping a knuckle into his mouth. People from the Capitol always make him laugh.

"Ladies first!" Bunting calls out, just like every year.

Grant coughs, and he's not smiling anymore.

Bunting closes his eyes, fishes around in the big glass bowl for females with a gloved hand, and pulls out a slip. The crowd draws in a breath. He reads it aloud. "Violet Innocens!"

James can hear some of the girls around him exhaling, except for one that is trying to suppress tears. He looks around the crowd, and spots it forming a path for Violet Innocens, a girl who he's never heard of. When he sees her, he feels short of breath.

Violet is young, twelve years old probably, and has her auburn hair in pigtails. Light freckles dot her face, which is trying to hide the obvious fear on her face. She takes her place on the stage, and is now trying her best not to burst down crying. He hates it when the younger ones get picked, but she's the youngest he's ever seen picked.

"Let's hear a round of applause for little Violet!" Bunting exclaims, clapping. Nobody claps. After a pause and a short cough, Bunting quickly follows up with, "Now the boys!"

He reaches into the ball again, eyes closed, and pulls out a slip of paper. He unfolds it and exclaims the name clearly in the district square.

"James Henderson!"

* * *

 _Hey, everyone! Welcome to the prologue of Newton's Third Law, my first Hunger Games fanfiction! This is NOT Submit-Your-Own-Tribute, though I'd like to do one of those someday. This follows the story of James Henderson throughout his Hunger Games. I've got the base outline of the story written, and I'll probably be uploading a chapter shortly after this one. The writing is atrocious and even switches from past-tense to present-tense at one point, but the first chapter is always the hardest for me, so eventually they'll improve!_

 _Thanks for reading the first chapter, and remember to review as to what you think! Replies to reviews will be done in this little blurb after the chapter's written. This current chapter is 2,500 words on the dot, excluding this little author's note._

 _See you next time!_

 _-C_


	2. Chapter Two: The Necklace

_"Endurance is one of the most difficult disciplines, but it is to the one who endures that the final victory comes." -Gautama Buddha_

* * *

James paused, trying to keep his mouth from hanging wide open. He looked at Bunting, in his flamboyant attire, gawking down at him with a smile. Grant stared at James too, his eyes the size of baseballs. The rest of the boys and girls standing around him turned to form a path, staring at him like he had two heads.

Impossibly, James forced his legs to move. Faltering initially, he steadied his pace and walked past all the would-be tributes. He knew half the cameras in the district were aimed at him, and couldn't help but hide the alarm on his face. His mouth half-open, he walked up the steps and up to the podium. He shot Violet a quick glance, and she was staring at him like he was a great beast.

"James!" Bunting almost shouts. "Any relation to Justinian?"

James weakly nodded.

"How interesting! Two brothers picked two years in a row! A round of applause for the second Henderson to compete!"

Silence from the crowd again, not even fake applause this time. Everyone was looking at him. He looks towards the edges of the district, and spots his family. Buck doesn't know what's going on, but James' father is trying to conceal his tears and Otto is gawking at James. He doesn't look mad, just...confused.

As the mayor steps up again to read the entire Treaty of Treason, James thought back to this time last year.

Exactly three-hundred and sixty-five days ago, Justinian Antony Henderson was Reaped. His district partner, a beautiful 18-year-old girl who'd lived her life in almost complete ignorance of the harsh nature of the world. James felt horrible. He couldn't volunteer with a broken leg. Neither could Otto.

Justinian scored a 7 on his training with the Gamemakers, and both Ven and James' father were trying to scrounge up enough money for a care package for Justinian when the games began. A 7 was quite good. That would earn a sponsor, maybe. If only the Games were fair.

That year, the tributes were greeted with a frozen landscape. Very little wood, no thawed water, and not a lot of cover. The Cornucopia was the best bet for the tributes that year. Justinian tried to run to the Cornucopia, but the Careers, just like every year, had gotten their first and were killing tributes left and right. Avoiding the Cornucopia, Justinian ran deep into the snowy landscape. After hours of watching his brother sprint, jog, walk, and eventually crawl for hours, night set in.

As one would expect in a frozen, desolate landscape full of snow and ice, the temperature plummeted far below freezing. The female tribute from District 7, the sheltered girl, had been killed at the Cornucopia. Justinian, cold and wearing jeans and a light hoodie, only curled up against a rock and cried. Whether it was because his district partner was murdered or because he was so cold, James didn't know, but what he did know was that he saw his younger brother cry himself into a sleep that he never awoke from.

Justinian Antony Henderson. District 7. Training Score of 7. Death by hypothermia. Placed 11 out of 24.

The mayor has stopped reading the Treaty, and motions for James and Violet to shake hands. James turned to the little girl, and extended his hand. She shook it, quivering, and James' hand fully enveloped the girl's. Her hazel eyes are full of sadness and fear, and James only nods slightly. She gawks at him for a moment, and then nods back.

James and Violet both turned to face the crowd as the anthem of Panem plays. He looked into the crowd again. One of his friends from football, Edsel, is rubbing Grant on the back, who is close to tears. A few girls gawk at James, most at Violet, and a few are trying to quietly comfort the crying girl, who James thinks is Violet's sister. He's seen her at school, but doesn't know her name.

Ven has his arms crossed at the back of the crowd, and is glaring at Bunting. He notices James glance, and smiles a small smirk, just for a moment, before he mouths something from the crowd. Then back to scowling. But James saw what he mouthed.

Ven had mouthed _Win this, kid._

James glances over at Violet briefly. She looks like the pure embodiment of innocence. She has no hope of winning. Nobody that young has ever won the games, especially a girl like Violet.

He might not be able to live with himself if he kills her.

The anthem ends, and James and Violet are escorted by a group of Peacekeepers into the Justice Building. He loses track of Violet, but disregards her. He's so much more focused that he was just Reaped for the Hunger Games. _Reaped._ A Peacekeeper leads him to a room, and he's left alone in the room for some peace and quiet.

For about thirty seconds.

The door slams open, and there's Otto, pulling him into a bear hug. He sees his father and Buck behind him, and hugs Otto back. They stay like that for a good while, and then Otto releases him. The brute of a boy just says, "I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?" James asks, his voice cracking; He's barely able to keep the tears in. He can't cry. Nobody will sponsor a baby. "O, everything is fine."

"No, everything is _not_ fine," Otto growls. He stops. "I'm sorry for that. I, just...I'm an ass of a brother."

"O, look at me." James grabs his brother by the shoulder and looks into his green eyes. "You broke your leg last year. You're too old now. Believe me when I say it's not your fault. Not your fault Justinian got picked, not your fault I got picked."

Otto exhales, takes in another breath, and steps away. He seems to have regained his composure. "You're strong," he says. "Not as strong as me—" He quickly flashes a bicep for good measure, "—But you're strong. You've been chopping and carrying firewood your whole life. You stand a choice. Don't give up."

"I won't," James firmly says.

Otto, satisfied with this answer, stands back, and his father steps forward, hugging James.

"I'm okay, Dad," James soothes. He knows this must be hard for him: He's lost a wife and a son to the Games, and now he's about to lose another. His father is strong, both physically and emotionally, but there's only so much a man can take. "I'll fight. I'll fight to survive." James doesn't mean he'll kill to survive, and James' father seems to know this, too.

The Peacekeepers open the door, and Otto is escorted out, scowling at them. His father gives him a quick hug and squeezes him. "I love you, James." Buck playfully strokes James' short hair, giggling. James can't help but smile sadly.

"I love you, too, dad," James replies. "Take care of Bucky."

"I will!" his father shouts as the door slams shut.

James is left in silence for a few minutes this time, sniffling, when Grant enters the room. Just like Otto, Grant pulls him into a hug that lasts much longer. It lasts for several minutes, Grant quietly sobbing into James' shoulder. When the Peacekeepers come to escort him out, Grant releases and says, "You have my word that your family will have enough as long as they live." As he's escorted out, he shouts, "My word!"

James is about to burst into tears when the door opens just as quickly as it closes. James expects Ven, or one of his friends from football, but it's not. It's Violet's sister. He thinks her name is Iris. She's much taller than Violet, but has the same auburn hair, hazel eyes, and the same freckles dot her face.

"J-James?" she asks, voice quivering. Her face is puffy, and she's been crying hard. She probably just visited Violet.

"Yeah," James replies, trying to keep his voice level and his eyes not full of tears. He hopes he doesn't cry in front of this girl he barely knows. "I, uh...yeah, that's me." He exhales.

She walks over to the couch and sits down. They sit in silence for the better part of a minute, and then she puts a hand on her shoulder to get his attention. He looks into her eyes, and tries his best not to break eye contact. Her eyes make him nervous. When James looks over, her hand falls to the couch.

"What is it?" James asks. _Idiot_ , he thinks. _You're an idiot._

"You'll keep her safe, right?" Iris asks.

"I will," James replies. "I'll keep her safe as long as I can." By "as long as I can," James means he'll keep her safe until he dies, which might just be thirty seconds in the arena.

"You will?" she asks, a tear falling down her left cheek.

"I will, Iris," he replies. "You have my word. I'll keep Violet safe." He isn't doing this because he likes Iris. He's doing it because Violet doesn't deserve to be brutally killed. Well, nobody does, but not Violet. She's too innocent for this world, too innocent to be thrown into a bloody arena.

"Thank you," Iris sobs, giving him a hug that only lasts for a moment before she digs into her pocket and gives him a necklace. It's a silver chain with a golden four-leaf-clover. She places it in the palm of his hand and closes it.

"What's this?" James asks. He doesn't know why this girl has given it to him.

"District token," Iris sniffles. "Thank you so much."

James only nods as Iris leaves, and the Peacekeepers escort in the next person. Ven. Ven, a grizzled man who's in his late thirties, is the toughest man James has ever known. His hair is a dark brown, grey in some parts from stress, and he sports a face marked with whiskers from years of shaving. He looks like an entirely different person in his Reaping clothes, though, a huge change from his normal hunting outfit.

"Get an axe," Ven says.

"Huh?" James asks.

"Get an axe," Ven flatly says again. He coughs before continuing. "I've been friends with your dad since middle school. I've known you since you were born. You're good with an axe. Strong, too. You can carry a hundred and fifty pounds, easy."

"I'm not gonna be throwing things at them if I have an axe, Ven," James points out; This is the only reunion where James doesn't feel like he's going to cry. Ven is his friend, that much is true, but here's here to help, not sob.

"Yeah, but you'll be able to carry equipment," Ven shoots back; His voice is deep and gravelly, and the sound of it somewhat cools his anxiety. "If you manage to get any kit from the Cornucopia, then you can carry it. Go for an axe, though. Once you get an axe, I recommend you book it. You follow?"

"I follow," James responds.

"Good." Ven holds his hand out, and James shakes it. He quickly adds, "And James? You don't have to, but I'd protect the little girl if I were you. I've seen too many people die and a little girl might be too much."

"I'm gonna try," James replies. "I'm gonna try as hard as I can."

"Good," Ven repeats. "And it's not like this is a concern in your head, but...your family will get extra from me for now on." Without another word, Ven turns heel and walks out the door.

Ven never was one for feelings.

James takes what remains of the hour to compose himself. No tears have fallen from his face, but even then he tries to make sure that's it's not red or that he looks like he's been on the verge of tears. He eyes the necklace once again. It doesn't look cheap; It was either traded for a lot of goods in the Epoch or custom made. Iris' parents might be jewelers, a trade taken up by the wealthier districts but practiced here and there by the not-so-fortunate ones. He's confused as to why Iris has given this to him. Why not her sister? He puts the necklace on and resolves to question this at a later date.

The Peacekeepers escort him this time to the train, where reporters with cameras shout questions at him and take photos. James ignores all of them, not even trying to look at his reflection. He stands next to Violet, whose face is marked with tears and her eyes red. She's obviously been crying for most of the previous hour. Usually, trying not to cry is a strategy in order to appear strong, but Violet hasn't even tried to. James wonders if this is because she has already surrendered to the inevitability of death, which only angers him more.

They're forced to stand in the train doorway for a few minutes, eyeing the annoying reporters, and then head into the train.

Bunting, energetic as ever, leads James and Violet into the tribute train, which is quite possibly the fanciest place James has ever been. Each tribute has their own private chambers that's bigger than the better part of James' home, and has a huge bed bigger than James' and Otto's bed combined. Bunting tells them to wear anything they like and then meet them in the dining car in an hour.

The first thing does is strip down out of his uncomfortable Reaping clothes and take a hot shower. He's had a shower once or twice before, but with cold water, and it feels so much nicer with warm water. After drying off, he puts on the first thing he can see in the many drawers filled with rich clothes: Thin but warm sweatpants, a wool commando sweater, and cotton socks that are the most comfortable socks he's ever worn.

When James enters the dining car, he's greeted by Violet, Bunting, Blight, and Eques. The room is full of delicate glass and silverware. If someone had thrown a rock in the room, it would rack up thousands in damages.

"James!" chirps Bunting. "How was your shower?"

"Warm," James replies as he slips into a seat, earning a snort from Blight.

"Excellent," smiles Bunting; He's much, much quieter than the previous times he's seen him. He's speaking now on a normal octave. "Enjoy the feast we've put on for you two." Bunting turns to Violet. "How are you, honey?"

James reaches for the first thing he can see, turkey, and quickly slices it with his fork and knife, stuffing it into his mouth. He reminds himself that he should mind his manners, but he's so hungry and has never seen so much food before that it's hard to keep table manners in mind.

"I'm good," Violet croaks. "All my family and friends came to visit me."

James pauses as he remembers Violet's sister, who gave him the expensive necklace with the clover. Why? The clover signifies good luck, but why him? James thinks that it should have been given to Violet. She needs more luck now than ever.

"That's good," Bunting replies; When he's not shouting at the top of his lungs, his voice is quite melodic. "Just eat for now, okay? We'll get you nice and prepared once you get to the Capitol."

As James eats, Bunting turns his focus onto him. "So, James, Justinian was your brother?"

James nods. "Yeah, he was. He was a good person."

"He was," Bunting says. Eques nods in agreement.

"The arena last year was a joke," Blight frowns. "Justinian scored well, and he was thrown into the tundra. Nobody deserves that."

"If there is any good to come out of this," Eques starts (It's the first time James has heard her speak), "it's that the Capitol will be focused on you."

"Focused on me?" James' nose wrinkled in confusion. "What does that mean?"

"Well, most years the Career tributes get the focus," Eques shrugs. "They are big and strong and are often the most handsome. You're strong, yes, but you have an edge over them."

"And that edge is Justinian," James half-said, half-asked.

"Exactly," Eques replies. "The Capitol will be interested in you. A boy Reaped the year after his brother."

"But Justinian didn't kill anyone," James pointed out. "He just ran into the arctic to freeze to death."

"Those Games were unfair," Eques shrugged. "Most of the Career tributes froze to death, too. He was placed 11th. Most of the Capitol isn't interested about how the tributes died last year, but odds are they remembered Justinian. He made the crowds laugh."

"He did," Blight adds. "He was Prince Charming to the audience."

"He'd have netted many sponsors if the arena wasn't so unfair," Eques finishes. "The crowd will be paying extra attention to you. That means more sponsors."

James only nods as the group continues the meal. After finishing, James is led into another room, where they watch the tributes from the other eleven tributes get Reaped. A muscle-bound boy from District 1 who volunteers for an equally muscle-bound boy. A cute, short girl with emerald eyes from District 4 that looks innocent but has a glint in her eye that worries James. James himself, walking to the stage, shock on his face but far from tears. A scrawny boy from District 8. A muscular boy from District 10 with short brown hair that reminds James of himself. A taller girl from District 12.

This is James' competition. He can point out a few flaws in the tributes—The boy from District 5 is missing a ring finger, The girl from District 11 is emaciated beyond belief, and the boy from District 1 looks like he has a temper. Ven was right; If he could get his hands on an axe, or even a knife, he'd be golden.

After the viewings, everyone in the group starts to retire to their own compartments, bidding each other good night. James is about to enter his own room when he feels a tug on his sweater sleeve. He glances down to see Violet looking up at him.

"Hi," James says.

"Hi," Violet says back. She squirms a little, as if she wants to say something but doesn't know how.

"Something on your mind?" James asks, trying to edge it out of her.

"Everything," Violet replies. "Something isn't on your mind?"

"Not really," James replies; That's a lie, but he's just trying to stop her panic. "Yeah, we've been Reaped, but the Games are in two weeks."

"In two weeks, I'll be dead," Violet frowns. She doesn't say it matter-of-fact, she says it like a student is asking the teacher if their answer to a problem is correct.

 _Damn_ , James thinks. He falters with conversation for a moment before saying, "Well, that's not exactly a winning attitude."

"That's because I won't win," Violet responds flatly. "I don't want to kill anyone. And even if I did, everyone is bigger than me."

"It doesn't matter how big you are," James replies, leaning into the train's wall. "What matters is how fast you are."

"It does?" Violet squints in confusion.

"Of course," James replies; He likes Violet. She's not bratty like some of the other little girls he's seen. "Look at me. I'm strong, right?"

Violet nods.

"But I'm not fast. If someone strong like me wanted to hurt you, it doesn't matter because you'd outrun me," James says. This is also a lie; He set a district record in the sprint relay, a record that hadn't been broken in thirty years, but in James' mind, this lie is okay.

"I can climb," Violet says, like it's a simple truth. The sky is blue. The grass is green. Violet can climb.

"Exactly, you just have to have the right mindset." James taps on his temple. "If you're fast and you can climb, the Careers won't even be able to get to you. You're small, too. Even if you get tired, you can hide. That's something I can't do."

"So you think I won't lose?" Violet asks, raising her eyebrows.

"I think District 7 is going to win this year," James shrugs. "But not if you're tired. Get some rest."

Violet bobs her head. "Okay, goodnight James."

"'Night, Violet."

James closes the door to his compartment, strips down to his boxers, and collapses on the comfortable bed. Within minutes he drifts off into a deep, dreamless sleep.

* * *

 _Yay, Chapter Two is done! This chapter was meant to focus on the finalizing of the Reaping process and how James and Violet are heading to the Capitol now. I like the character of Bunting a lot and expect to see more of him in upcoming chapters. The part at the end was the first official interaction between Violet and James, and I think it played out friendly enough. Also, Blight, if any of you can recall, is an actual character in the series. He is, obviously, a District 7 victor who was Reaped for the 75th Hunger Games/3rd Quarter Quell. Eques, the other District 7 victor, is an original character I created. Expect her to be a bit more...unfeeling than the other characters._

 _A final side note, the Hunger Games in which Justinian died was also recognized in the first book; The Games where almost everyone froze to death. I was always a bit intrigued about that one and decided to incorporate it into the story._

 _Reviews:_

 _SparkHatGuestv: Thanks a lot for my first review! Appreciate the kind words!_

 _That's about it, thanks for reading and remember to review!_

 _-C_


	3. Chapter Three: Cheery Faces

_"Two things only the people anxiously desire — bread and circuses." -Juvenal_

* * *

James cracked open his eyes to find Bunting bursting into his room, clapping his hands, shouting, "Come on, James, time to get up!"

James groans, wriggling out of the bed he'd slept in and rubbed his eyes. "Alright, alright, give me a few minutes."

"Take as much time as you need," Bunting says. "Just be in the dining car soon!"

Groaning a second time, James reached over to the clothes he'd worn the previous day, pulling them on. _They're probably not that dirty,_ James thinks.

After getting dressed and taking another shower, James found himself in the dining car, munching on the feast that awaited him and Violet. Blight and the rest were already there, happily eating the first meal of the day.

They had been eating in silence for almost five minutes when Blight asks, "James, you good with a weapon?"

"Wha?" James asks through a mouthful of eggs.

"Are you any good with a bow?" Blight rephrases. This questioning is a surprise to James; Blight has always seemed like a laidback guy. James expected Eques to ask the questions about weapons and Blight to handle the interviews.

"Nope," James replies. "I mean, I've shot a bow a few times, but I'm bad at it."

Blight nods. "Alright, well, how about axes? I mean, we're from District 7, right?"

"Yeah. I'm good with an axe," James replies. "I can swing hard with a longer one, and I can throw a smaller one pretty far."

"Good, good," Blight nods. "Anything else?"

James shakes his head. "I can kind of use a machete, but no, not much else."

"This is good," Blight echoes. He looks over at Violet. "How about you, Violet? Can you fight with anything?"

Violet shrugs. "I don't know. Maybe a knife."

"You'd probably be good with a dagger," James adds.

"What's a dagger?" Violet asks.

"It's like a smaller knife," James replies.

"That might be a good idea. I used to climb with knives," Violet says.

The train suddenly grows darker, and James realizes this is because they are entering the famed train tunnel to the Capitol. It's famed because it's the only way into the Capitol from the east, so once it was blocked off rebels had to scale the rocky hills and mountains. This, naturally, led to most of them being bombed by the air force used by the Capitol. James has been told that his great-grandfather was one such rebel killed scaling the mountain. Then again, everyone is told that every rebel was killed during the Dark Days.

"If there are trees in the arena," Eques starts, "Then you're golden."

"We'll talk later," Blight finishes. "We're about to enter the Capitol. Be sure to wave and smile."

James wipes his mouth with a napkin and walks over to one of the train windows. The train is still surrounded by darkness, but he crosses his arms and waits. Violet joins him, rocking nervously on her toes. After standing there for several minutes in silence with Violet, they enter the Capitol.

James is immediately stunned.

The cameras he's seen in the Capitol can't even compare to its magnificence. Huge skyscrapers rise out of the ground and tower above them. Shiny, fancy cars drive along the road. Both driving the cars and walking on the street are the citizens of the Capitol; Fully-fed and oblivious to the struggles of life, they are clad in ridiculous clothing one should only wear to a party where the theme is stupid clothes. Almost immediately they recognize the tribute train and rush towards the two, waving and cheering. In a way, James is disgusted with the people of the Capitol. They've led their whole lives without struggle and are now cheering on two people only because they were unjustly marked for death by the Capitol.

Nonetheless, James puts on his best smile and waves to the crowd.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

"Uh, what...exactly does this do?" James asks, eyeing his reflection in the body-length mirror; Save for some Capitol underwear far too tight for comfort, James is naked. His design team, whose names are extravagant and he's already forgotten, look at him back. Just seconds ago they rubbed some sort of ointment on his face.

"It will keep your face from growing facial hair over the next week or so," shrugs a taller man with purple eyeliner; James thinks his name _might_ be Dax.

"Why the next week?" James asks.

"It's for the interviews," shrugs a plump woman with huge eyebrows; James knows her name starts with an L, but that's it. "You can't be appearing to the Capitol with a full beard. That would be hideous!" She shrieks out a laugh, and the other two members of the design team join in; It's an ugly laugh and obnoxious, but relaxing in a way.

"You're going to meet your stylist in just a minute," giggles the third member of his prep team, whose name he forgets completely; He is of average height and his hair is striped black and white and looks ridiculous. Then again, very few people in the Capitol _don't_ look ridiculous.

The team exits the room, and James sits alone for a moment, barely-clothed and scrubbed down completely with anti-beard cream on his face. He's allowed to keep all of his arm and leg hair, but some of his chest hair and all of his armpit hair has been waved off painfully. It feels weird to have it gone; In a way, James feels much younger.

Suddenly, the door opens and James' stylist, Cliff, strolls into the room, and for a moment James isn't sure if this is even a Capitol citizen; Clad in a black suit and sporting elegantly-combed blonde hair, the only signs that he's a Capitol citizen are two strips of eye black under his eyes, a small eyebrow piercing, and two earrings.

"James?" he asks with a smile. His voice is soothing, melodic, like Bunting's.

"Cliff?" James asks back, smiling because his stylist looks normal.

"The one and only," Cliff replies with a bigger smile, extending a hand; James shakes it. "It's a pleasure to be your mentor."

"It's a pleasure to be your tribute," James replies. He likes Cliff. He's not loud like the other people of the Capitol.

Cliff keeps his smile. "Respectful, I like it. Stand up, let me have a look at you."

James nods, and hops off of the table, feeling a bit exposed in only the Capitol compression underwear, standing in the room. Cliff paces around him, his shoes clacking on the floor as they go. Cliff makes a full rotation and nods. James can't help but ask nervously, "How do I look?"

Cliff laughs, a warm sound filled with pleasure. "Just fine, James. You're tall. Strong, too. The crowds will love you. The only real obstacle we have left is your hair."

"My hair?" James asks, reflexively running his hand through his short, brown hair that he's kept trimmed his whole life. "What's wrong with my hair?"

"Nothing," Cliff grins. "We just need to spike it or quiff it with one of the hairdryers, and we'll be right as rain. Follow me."

James puts on a robe the color of blood and follows Cliff into a sitting room overlooking the Capitol. It really is quite a sight, and James falters for a moment before continuing. He plops down on one of the chairs next to Cliff. An elegant meal sits before the two of them, but James ignores it.

"So, James," starts Cliff, "We have a few ideas for your parade outfit."

"Shoot," replies James. "You're the expert."

Cliff snorts. "Barely. I've only been a stylist for four years."

James remembers this; Cliff was the stylist of District Eight three years ago, and graduated to District Seven two years ago. This means that James will be the third tribute mentored. _Third time's the charm, right_? James thinks, instinctively reaching for Iris' necklace, but remembers that it was removed when they entered the Capitol.

"So, do you remember the costumes last year?" Cliff asked.

"Yeah, there were, um...they were trees," James replied, painfully remembering Justinian parade through the Capitol.

"The trees were supposed to be a special type of tree that resembled strength," Cliff frowned. "Unfortunately, most people didn't catch on."

"I know they didn't," James frowns, recalling that Justinian didn't even get matches when he was shivering on the ground. Nobody sponsored the boy who looked like a big-ass leaf.

Cliff's eyes widen for a moment before he stammers out, "Oh, that's right...you're Justinian's brother. I'm so sorry, James. I forgot."

"It's okay," James says flatly. "You didn't kill Justinian. Barely anyone got sponsors last year." He coughs. "Let's, uh, move on."

"Good idea," Cliff agrees. Echoing James' own awkward cough, the stylist continues. "Err, anyway, when I watched the Reaping of you and Violet, I noticed something."

"What?" James asks.

"You and her are...polar opposites, physically," Cliff responds. "Violet is this short, cute little girl yet you are a tall, muscular boy. The Capitol likes muscle, just look at Finnick Odair."

Cliff was right; Finnick Odair, the victor of the Hunger Games three years ago, is loved by almost every person of the Capitol, and just like James, is tall and muscled. Only he has the charisma and charm that James doesn't.

"So what are you thinking?" James asks, hoping against hope that he doesn't end up looking like a shrub.

"The men of District 7 have been carrying lumber for a decent part of their lives," Cliff says. "They're strong. As a result, we'll clad you in something that people attribute to strength. Since Violet is more innocent, she'll be wearing something more, well, innocent."

"What resembles strength?"

"Tell me, James," Cliff grins. "Have you ever heard of the Romans?"

Two hours later, James still doesn't know what Romans are, but is wearing a red tunic that covers half of his chest and goes down to his knees, with an iron chest-plate adorning his stomach. On his head is a clunky bronze helmet with holes only for eyes with a long row of feathers on top. Violet is wearing a white tunic that covers almost her whole body.

James doesn't care who the Romans are anymore, all he cares about is that they dress weird and their helmets are claustrophobic.

"Remember, you are the embodiment of strength," Cliff reminds them as they mount their chariot.

"And Violet, you are the embodiment of innocence!" chirps Violet's stylist, a man who looks like a carrot.

As Violet mounts the chariot, she mutters to James, "Nice helmet. You look cool."

James laughs through the cramped helmet. "Yeah, but I can't breathe."

Violet laughs. "If you can't breathe, just take it off."

"Great idea, Violet," James snorts. "I think I'll have to do just that."

By now, District 6's chariot has just left, and before long their own beautiful horses trot into the parade.

The crowd roars as they enter the long road where the chariots travel to, but the cheers increase when they spot the mystery boy with the helmet. Before long, most of the cameras have focused away from the Career tributes, and on to James, whose face is still covered in the helmet. Only his emerald-green eyes are visible. The cheer is building more as more Capitol citizens take notes of James, whose face is masked.

"They love us!" James shouts through the helmet.

"They love you!" Violet shouts back.

Then James remembers what Cliff told him, that he is representing strength and Violet is representing innocence. In a way, they have styled James to be a sort of protector over Violet; The boy in the warrior's outfit, and the girl in the white tunic.

"Take my hand," orders James.

Violet doesn't say anything, but James feels her grasp in his palm, and tightens it. "Follow my lead!" he shouts. James reaches to the bottom of the helmet, and tears it off, revealing his face. The crowd quiets their roars only for a moment, and then James throws their arms into the air.

The crowd goes berserk.

They stay like that for the rest of the parade, James clutching Violet's small hand, maintaining a fierce look on his face that reads, "Don't mess with the little girl." The cameras divide their time between them and the other districts as best they can, but the mystery of James and Violet has enthralled the crowd, up to the point where they enter the Training Center.

It takes all of James' mental capacity not to grin with joy.

They might have just earned a chance at getting a sponsor.

* * *

 _Chapter 3! This chapter was a bit shorter, around 2,100 words (of course, excluding this bit) and its chief purpose was to establish James' stylist, Cliff, and also flesh out the victors a bit. The next chapter will probably be much longer, and to throw you a bone, it'll include a good portion of the training center and maybe a little backstory. That's about it for now, I'll see you guys next chapter!_

 _Reviews:_

 _LittleMissPriss210501: Thanks! I appreciate your support, and hope you're enjoying the story!_

 _-C_


	4. Chapter Four: Training

_"The more you sweat in training, the less you bleed in combat." -United States Navy SEALs Motto_

* * *

The Training Center, a huge tower built for tributes and their teams only, is quite luxurious; Every tribute team's living quarters are on the tower's floor correlating to their district, so James, Violet, and the rest travel up in a glass elevator at what feels like light-speed until they reach the seventh floor. Bunting remains quite excited: James' display with the helmet seemed to have gained some support for District 7.

"The crowd loved you two!" Bunting squeals. "James, the helmet truly was amazing! Anyone who's anyone has heard of the boy with the helmet from District 7!"

James huffs out a laugh as they exit their elevator to a high-tech, plush Capitol room bigger than James' house. "It wasn't that impressive. I just had a big helmet that I took off."

"The crowd doesn't seem to think so," Violet chimes in. "They loved your outfit."

"No, they loved _your_ outfit," James replies, the hint of smile forming on the corner of his lips.

"Mm hmm," Violet smiles, a noise that sounds like a yes but means completely the opposite. "Whatever you say."

"If what Bunting says is true," Blight starts, snorting as Bunting glares at him for doubting his truthfulness, "Then sponsor deals should be fairly easy to secure, even for me."

"How easy are they to get?" James asks, sitting down on a plush red sofa as the rest of the team takes their place on similar sofas in the expansive living room. "The sponsorships."

"Not too hard," says Eques. "If your tribute impresses the crowd well enough, sometimes it's only a matter of asking the idiots in the Capitol."

"She's right," Blight agrees. "Eques stunned the crowd eight years ago in her Games, and I even managed to send her a small sword."

"I didn't even have a cool helmet," Eques smirks. "I kicked ass."

James nods. "What if I don't get a high training score, though?"

"You said you know how to use an axe?" Blight asks, kicking off his shoes, much to Bunting's dismay, who complains that the carpet is new.

"Yeah," James replies.

Blight smiles a bit. "Then you won't get a low score."

* * *

 _WEEKS UNTIL THE REAPING: 17_

 _"Why do I have to do this?" moaned James, kicking a stray pebble with his foot._

 _"Because you need to," Otto firmly replies, crossing his arms._

 _They've wandered into the outer region of District 7, called the Beyond by most. Past the designated logging center of District 7, which stretches several miles, a fence was put up to prevent those from escaping. At first it was heavily electrified, but since they have to move the fence every few years to gain access to more logs, it's only a chain link fence. The Beyond, a place untouched by man, is teeming with life. Otto has a few targets set up: A mock dummy, a soda can, and a few empty beer bottles. Slung over his back is a rucksack containing some food, but more important five small, compact axes._

 _"But it's not needed," James frowns. "I won't get picked."_

 _"That's what Justinian said," Otto frowns back. "And he applied for as much tesserae as you did." He rubs his forearm. "We need you to do this in case you get Reaped."_

 _James sighs. "Alright, alright. What do I have to do?"_

 _Otto digs into the bag and pulls out a small hatchet, and tosses it to James. "Throw it at that beer bottle. The one in the middle."_

 _"Okay," James replies, and steps back. He juts his arm out to the left, and whips it toward the beer bottle; As expected, it misses by a mile and thuds into a nearby tree, landing harmlessly on the ground._

 _"Smooth," Otto shrugged, tossing him another one. "This time, don't jut out your arm. Bend your elbow back towards your head, and throw it hard. You're throwing it like a baseball."_

 _James doesn't say anything, but bends his elbow back, throwing it hard towards the beer bottle. It nicks the top of the bottle, but barely._

 _"Better." Otto nods, tossing him a third one. "Don't throw it as hard. You have good form, but you throw it way too hard. Let the axe do the work."_

 _"Sorry I've never thrown weapons," James replies, though he shoots Otto a grin that means he's not mad._

 _Otto grins back. "You haven't thrown weapons at beer bottles? Loser."_

 _James bends his elbow back, the blade of the axe touching his back, before he threw it lightly towards the dummy. It lodges itself in the dummy's head. James turns to Otto, who smiles._

 _"What a pro," Otto says with a clap._

* * *

James is amazed by the Capitol.

Awaking from a deep sleep at exactly 4:37 in the morning (He knows this because there are at least three clocks in his bedroom with the time displayed in big numbers), James finds that there's no shortage of buttons to press. One changes what he looks at when he glances out the window, another delivers food to him, another dries his hair. The Capitol showers have at least a hundred buttons, and James' shower lasts almost an hour as he messes around with every option available to him.

 _Too much luxury_ , James thinks, toweling himself off just before the clock(s) strike six. _At least the food is good._

He lays awake and considers writing a letter. He's not familiar on the etiquette of tributes writing to their families. He's been in the Capitol for a total of a day, and he slept through most of it, but there's so much he wants to tell his family. He knows he can't physically speak with them, but even now a letter is starting to seem unreasonable.

James wonders what his friends and family think back in District 7. He smirks to himself as he imagines Grant bouncing around the town square when they introduced James, bragging that he was friends with the mystery boy from 7. He can imagine Buck, blissfully unaware of why James is on a huge screen but excitedly announcing it in broken toddler sentences. Otto and Ven are probably both quiet, but inside they are also probably secretly pleased with how James' entry went. James' father is probably a bit sad, having watched another son go out the same time last year, but is also happy that James' entry was good.

He sits, pondering whether or not to write the letter and if it's legal for almost a full hour and a half, but by then Bunting has stormed in, yelling that it's a "huge day" for James. Rolling his eyes, James throws on the training outfit set out for him by an unknown assistant when James was sleeping, and heads out of the door, his socks slapping against the hardwood floor.

"Mornin', James," Blight nods when James enters the dining room.

"Hey, Blight," James replies, plopping down in a chair and grabbing the first thing he can see: A blueberry muffin with warm butter inside.

"Sleep well?" asks Eques.

"Like an angel," James replies.

"Good," Bunting half-frowns. "You missed dinner. The servants couldn't wake you."

"Neither could Bunting," Blight replies, rubbing his eyes. "He woke _me_ up, though."

Bunting shrugs with a smile. "I _have_ been known for my energetic voice."

"You're loud," Violet groggily points out, earning a short laugh from James and Blight.

"She's not wrong," James points out, a smile still on his face. He looks over at the little girl seated next to him. "How'd you sleep, Vi?" He pauses. The nickname was sudden. Reminiscent of what he calls Otto. He didn't mean to call her that, it just...came out.

Violet's nose wrinkles at her new nickname, but she gives a small smile (Seemingly accustomed to her nickname almost immediately), and says, "Good. Except when Bunting yelled."

Another round of laughter from the table, save for Bunting, whose face is bright-red. "He wouldn't wake up!" protests Bunting.

After their breakfast, James and Violet take an elevator with Blight down to the actual training center. The center is below the ground floor, but the elevator takes only a minute to reach to the bottom of the building (Which ceases to disappoint James). Once they step off, someone jogs up to them and smacks a piece of cloth with a '7' on his shirt. His training outfit is simple: A black, tight-fitting athlete's T-shirt with compression pants and sleek running shoes.

The training center has everything from blades to courses in camouflage, and the tall woman who introduces herself as Atala explains the simple rules: The tributes are free to move about the stations as they please, lunch will start in two hours, and nobody is to harm another tribute. Gamemakers watch above, but most are too fixated on the feast set out for them to to notice the tributes.

"Have at it!" Atala beams.

Immediately the Careers are running for the most dangerous weapons. James turns to Violet to ask her what she wants to do but she's already made up her mind, running towards the trapping instructor. James sighs, resolving to meet up with her later, and turns towards the Careers and the weapons. Breaking out in a jog, James closes the gap of fifty feet in seconds, and stops when he finds that the girl from District 1, a beautiful girl with long legs and long, black hair has two axes in her hand, swinging them about. The other axes, belonging to a clumsy boy from District 8 (Who has wandered away from the Careers) and the District 2 Male, are already being used. This girl, however, seems to have no intent on actually using them.

James takes a deep breath, quelling his nervousness as best he can, and walks up to the girl from District 1. She looks over at him, her eyes mesmerizing. "What do you want?" she asks, her voice both sounding like honey and having a bitter tone to it.

"You gonna use those axes, 1?" James asks, crossing his arms, hoping that he appears to the Careers like he's fearless.

The girl's eyes narrow for a moment, and then she smiles, almost flirtatiously. "Watch this." She turns, and hurls the hatchet, her smaller axe, towards a dummy. The handle hits the dummy instead of the blade, and clatters to the ground harmlessly.

James smirks. "Smooth. Looks to me like District 1 is gonna have a victor this year."

"Hey, aren't you the brother of the kid who froze last year?" asks the boy from District 2, a hulking boy with shaggy, sandy-blonde hair. He thinks his name might be Pollish. People from District 2 have dumb names. "Such a shame."

"Yeah, but I'm not weak, like him," James frowns.

James feels a pang of guilt for calling his brother weak; He'd never believe it in a million years. Justinian was funny and smart and the furthest thing from weak, and couldn't be killed by any of the Careers. That being said, he just can't let the Careers think he's weak. He can't. James apologizes to him internally and vows to fight the Games for his brother.

The girl from 1 smiles, handing him her second axe, which is much longer. "I'd like to see you do better."

"Gladly," James smiles.

Taking a deep breath, gripping the long axe in two hands, James rears back and swings, with a grunt, at the nearest dummy's arm, hacking it off. Quickly spinning on his right, James cleaves off another dummy's head before sidestepping to the left and burying it in a third dummy's head. Surprised that he could do it and feeling the gaze of the Careers on him, James leaves the longer axe embedded in the dummy's head and quickly scoops up the hatchet, rearing back and throwing it into a fourth dummy with a grunt. The hatchet's blade finds its home in the chest of the fourth dummy.

Panting slightly, James turns to the District 1 girl, whose mouth hangs wide open. He asks, "Is that better?"

The Careers don't say anything, save for the District 4 boy, who says, "Join us if you want to live." The sentence is supposed to have authority, but the boy's voice is shaky.

James shakes his head with a frown. He looks over at Violet, currently painting her arm an autumn orange. He glances back towards the Careers. "Leave me and the little girl alone if you want to live."

Without another word, James turns and walks away, almost colliding with the girl from District 12. He exhales to himself. He just did what he thought impossible.

He just stood up to the Careers.

He's fifty feet away from the Careers when he hears a voice. "You don't like them, either." It's deep, a boy's for sure.

James turns to see the boy from District 10, who's tall and one of the most muscular tributes James has ever seen. He remembers his Reaping, seeing a girl his age, a girlfriend maybe, sob as he took the stage.

"Who? The Careers?" James asks.

The boy, who has a bow and arrow in hand and is standing next to the archery targets, turns and nods. "I don't like 'em either."

"They're arrogant," James agrees.

"They ask you to join 'em?" the boy asks, firing an arrow into a dummy's throat.

"Yeah, I said no."

The boy nods, letting another arrow fly. "I did too. They asked me right before the Tribute Parade." He pauses. "I hate Careers."

"I hate them too."

"I'm Declan," the boy says.

"James."

"I know who you are," Declan replies. "You're the kid with the brother who died last year. You had the helmet on yesterday."

"That I did," James replies.

"Wanna be friends?" Declan asks, turning to him with a smirk. "We'll be besties."

"Yeah, sure," James smiles back. He likes Declan. "Friends. Besties."

"Good." Declan racks the bow on the weapon rack nearby. He nods toward Violet. She's talking to the boy from District 12, an Asian boy around sixteen who looks strong enough but also looks like he hasn't had a decent meal in his life. "The little girl your friend, too?"

"She is," James replies. "You're her friend now."

Declan nods. "Fair enough. You two gonna team up?"

James nods back. "Most likely, yeah."

Declan considers this for a moment. "Do you want to work together in the arena?"

"I don't want to kill my friends," James frowns, sad at the realization that in two weeks' time, Declan or James or both will be dead.

"I don't either," Declan agrees. "How about a non-aggression pact?"

"A what?" James asks, wrinkling his nose in confusion.

"A non-aggression pact," Declan repeats. "We won't team up and fight together like the Careers, but we won't attack each other, either. If we find each other in the Games, we'll just...leave each other alone."

James considers this. He likes Declan; He's friendly, doesn't seem arrogant and is good with a bow. He'd be a powerful ally, but the thought of having to betray him hurts James too much. What Declan's proposed is a good idea: They won't have to turn on each other, but won't have to kill each other, either.

"That sounds good," James replies. "I'll get Violet, and maybe that Asian kid over there, in on it too."

"It's a plan," Declan repeats. Suddenly, his face lights up. "Oh, yo, let's sit together at lunch."

"Why?"

Declan nods behind him, and James notices the Careers looking at them from across the Training Center. Most of them, the girl from 1, are looking a bit concerned.

James smirks. "They're afraid."

"Bingo." Declan's eyes have a glint to them. "Let's scare the hell out of them."

James' smirk grows a bit wider. "Great idea."

After an hour or so, they are called to lunch. Unsurprisingly, the Careers sit together, loudly laughing and talking to each other. James sits with Violet, Declan, and the boy from 12, whose name is Romeo, at their own table, and they start to conduct plans.

"Well, first, for our little don't-team-up-with-each-other-but-also-don't-kill-each-other group, we need a name," Romeo starts. Romeo, who turns out to be a lot stronger than James first thought, sports quiffed black hair and while he has a sturdy frame to him, he also devours his food quickly. James doesn't know much about District 12, but since every tribute from 12 eats this way, it can't be a good sign of how life is. But a lifetime of rationing means Romeo will be able to outlast starvation much longer than the rest. James also has gone many weeks, months even without proper nutrition, but not as much as Romeo by the looks of things.

"The Black Cats," Declan suggests. When everyone looks at him, he says, "What? Don't black cats mean good luck?"

"Nope," Violet says.

"They don't," Romeo frowns.

"Just the opposite, actually," says James. "They mean bad luck."

"Damn," Declan says.

After a moment, Violet suggests that they name themselves the "Ace of Spades."

"Ace of Spades?" Declan asks, eyebrows raised.

"Yeah," Violet replies. "Have you ever played, like, um, cards before?"

"I played Go Fish like once," Declan shrugs.

Violet's eyes narrow at him, and James snorts. "That doesn't count."

"I've played poker with my brother a few times," James says, fondly remembering when he, Otto, and Justinian would hang out in their treehouse for hours on end and play cards.

"It's the luckiest card in a deck," Violet says, the little girl rolling her eyes as if she's superior because these three boys don't know what the ace of spades card is.

"Sorry I don't gamble," Declan says with a smile.

"Not okay," Violet crosses her arms. "Anyway, we're lucky, and that card is the highest card, and we're also the best, so we're the ace of spades."

"I like it," Romeo says. "The Ace of Spades."

"Same," James and Declan both say at the same time.

"It's my district token," Violet adds. "So I'm double-lucky."

 _So that's her district token_ , James thinks. He wonders who gave it to her. "Yeah, well I have a clover necklace, so I'm also double lucky."

"Lucky," Romeo groans. "I got a pebble as my district token. A pebble."

Declan laughs, and says, "Mine's worse. I got a bottle cap. A bottle. Cap. That's the most useless thing ever."

"I don't think district tokens are supposed to be exceptionally lucky," James points out.

"Fair," Declan says. After a moment, his eyes light up and he says, "Yo, we need, like...a code system. Like Morse code."

"I don't know Morse Code," James says.

"I don't think any of us do," Declan says hurriedly. "We'll probably be on our own for awhile, if not the whole Games, but we'll be close at the Cornucopia. We need to design a code system as to where we're gonna go."

"Like what?" Violet asks.

"Like..." Declan taps his huge bicep with his index and middle finger twice. "Two taps means that whoever gives the signal is going to the Cornucopia." He taps three times. "Three times means you're going to run into the forest or desert or whatever they have set up for us this year."

"I like it," James said.

"It's simple," Declan beams. "Two taps means Cornucopia, three taps means run away."

"I'm gonna run into the wild for sure," Romeo says. "I'm kinda strong, but the Careers have been eating healthy all their lives. If that beefy asshole over there, I think his name is Tybalt, checks me, I'll go flying."

"I'll try to remember," James says; He's not sure which district Tybalt belongs to, but he clocks six feet and is at least two hundred pounds of pure muscle.

"I'll go into the wild too," Violet says. "I don't want to fight the Careers. They're scary."

"They _are_ scary," Romeo agrees.

"I'm gonna have to go into the Cornucopia," Declan sighs. "I can hunt, but with a bow only."

James wonders if Declan is so strong because he's been hunting for his meals since a child.

"I don't know where I'll go," James says. "I could probably fight the Careers off, but I need an axe. Two if I want to try and throw one at them. I'm not well-versed in making primitive weapons."

"That makes two of us," Romeo mutters.

"So," Declan says, leaning forward and lowering his voice so nobody can hear, "Tally count says two Cornucopia, two run. Sound good?"

"Sounds good," the other three of them echo.

By then, lunch is over, and the Careers seem to have mixed views on James' group based on their faces. The boys from Districts 2 and 4 and the girl from 4 all look far from impressed with their newly-assembled rivals. The rest, though, look a bit concerned. James and Declan are the strongest non-Career tributes, Violet is surprisingly fast, and Romeo is probably the smartest tribute out of all twenty-four.

The Careers don't look too happy, and that's what keeps him going throughout the rest of training.

 **.**

 **2**

 **.**

 **DAYS**

 **.**

 **LATER**

 **.**

James sits in the dining room with the other tributes. It's their last day of training, and by now James' group has expanded their plans: Romeo is going to run to the west when the games start, Declan's going to the Cornucopia and then to the east, and James is going to the Cornucopia and then to the North. Violet will wait for James outside the bloodbath and then follow him. When it comes to the Feast, Romeo is positive that he's not going. The rest haven't made up their mind. Their pact now extends to the District 12 female, a girl named Amelia, who's quiet and frail and hasn't spoken to any of them, but Romeo wants to live.

One by one, the tributes are called to show off to the Gamemakers. The boy from District 6, Mick, goes, followed by the girl, and after what must be only ten minutes but feels like hours, James is called to go. He takes a deep breath, and Violet squeezes his hand. "Don't suck," she says dryly.

James can't help but give a short, breathy laugh. "I'll try, Vi."

James runs a hand through his hair, and then walks into the gymnasium.

Immediately, he sighs in relief.

District 7 isn't at the top of districts, which unfortunately means they don't get to make first impressions, but also isn't at the bottom of the district list, where by the time the tributes show up the Gamemakers are drunk off their ass on wine. District 7 is right in the middle, so while a few of the Gamemakers are a bit tipsy, they're far from bored. The Gamemakers, currently dining on what looks like chicken or beef, eye him attentively. Both his physical appearance and his costume at the Tribute Parade have enthralled the Gamemakers, and he silently thanks Cliff under his breath for making him wear that stupid helmet.

Unsure of what to say, James just walks forward towards the row of axes set up for him. Four long axes, five hatchets. There are three dummies in close proximity to him, and three further out. James picks up the longer axe, and takes a deep breath, his sweaty palms warming the cold metal of the axe.

In a flash, he picks up the axe and cleaves off the head of another dummy, just like in his demonstration to the Careers. Quickly stopping and spinning, James beheads another dummy before swinging as hard as he can into the third dummy's head; The force splits the dummy's head in half.

Empowered by murmurs from the Gamemakers, James takes a lunging step towards the hatchets. Flipping it in the air and catching it for effect, James rears back and throws the hatchet ten feet, hitting the dummy in the stomach.

A second dummy. A second hatchet. Twenty feet away. Hit square in the chest.

The third dummy is twenty-five feet away, but James grips the third hatchet hard, and throws it coolly towards the dummy. It finds its home in the dummy's skull.

 _Thank you, Otto._

James turns towards the Gamemakers, many of which are nodding at him and smiling in approval. James pulls the long axe from the dummy and racks it.

"On behalf of District 7, I would like to thank you for your consideration," James says with a smile.

The Head Gamemaker, Mercutio Sampson, a man around thirty-five who looks relatively normal by Capitol standards, smiles back. "Thank you, Mr. Henderson, that is all. Please direct yourself to your living quarters."

James can barely contain himself as he fast-walks to the elevator, and slams the seventh floor. He barrels through the elevator door when it reaches their quarters, and sits down with a big, goofy grin on the couch.

Eques just smiles to herself as Blight asks with a grin, "Let me guess, you killed it."

"I killed it," James grins back. "They even addressed me by my name."

"That's wonderful, James!" Bunting cheers.

"That's good," Blight muses. "Better than my games. They barely looked at me."

"What'd you do?" asks Bunting. "Surely, it must have had to be incredible."

"Not really," James sheepishly admits. "I hit a few dummies with an axe and then threw three hatchets at a few ones smaller out. I wouldn't have impressed them if it wasn't for the hatchets, I think."

"Then you have to thank whoever taught you to throw hatchets," Blight laughs, giving James a squeeze on the shoulder. "Good job, kid."

"Thanks, Blight," smiles James.

The past few hours pass by fast, and by the time they're done with dinner they're sitting on a plush couch, watching the tribute scores. Violet refuses to tell them what she got, only that she blew them out of the water. James can't help but love the girl's spirit. As usual, the Careers score in the eight to ten range: the girl from District 1, whose name James learn is Lepus, scores the lowest out of them, only an eight. James can't help but feel a bit smug; The snobby girl from District 1 got the worst score. Her counterpart, a seething brute named Tybalt, earns a nine. James makes a mental note to keep away from him. The boy from 2, whose name turns out to actually be Pollish, scores the highest, earning a ten. So far, this is James' biggest concern in the Games: Tybalt is strong but dumb as a rock and probably isn't good with ranged weapons, but James has seen Pollish throw spears from thirty feet away and mentally, he's sharper than a knife.

James is nervous as his image, encapsulating his physique and the glare from the Tribute Parade perfectly, flashes onto the screen, followed by his earned score. James' mouth drops.

He's earned a ten.

The room goes berserk. Bunting's pulling him into a bear hug, Blight slaps him on the back, Eques is cheering and Cliff only shoots James a sly smile and says, "Good job, gladiator."

James can't help but stay stunned as Violet's image pops up, followed by a 7. How she got that, James has no idea, but James pulls her into a hug that lasts for a moment before releasing her. James wonders what his family is thinking back home. Otto is probably beaming to himself, Grant's definitely cheering at the top of his lungs, and perhaps even Ven cheers out loud. His friends from school are definitely stunned with his score, and he can imagine Iris crying with joy when her sister almost scored the same as a Career.

The other tributes go. Declan scores a nine, unsurprisingly considering he's Declan, Romeo scores a seven, and Amelia scores a five. The Ace of Spades isn't that bad.

Before long, James wanders away from the commotion, to his wonderful Capitol bedroom, where sleep takes him in a matter of minutes.

* * *

 _Yay! Chapter 4! 4,830 words excluding this little tidbit. This chapter established the Alliance of the Ace of Spades, which will have more significance later on in the story. Most of the training and James' Gamemaker interview was done here. The next chapter will probably be shorter, just a heads up, and will probably include the tribute interview by Caesar and the final steps leading up to the Games. The Games will likely start two chapters from now, so not much time left!_

 _That's all for now! Thanks for reading, and remember to review!_

 _-C_


	5. Chapter Five: The Interviews

_"Public appearances are a headache. I hold mine down to a minimum." -Jack Nicklaus_

* * *

"So," starts Blight, sipping a glass of water, "Let's work on your angle."

"My angle?" asks James, rubbing his eyes. It's past noon, but Bunting trying to teach him how to walk in a suit (Which wasn't a hard activity until Bunting announced that it had to be) the whole morning has sapped him of almost all his energy.

"Y'know, what you're gonna act like to the Capitol," Blight replies. "You've got their attention. Not only did you woo them at the Tribute Parade, but you have a brother who died last year in the Games. _And_ you have a 10 training score."

James recalls this; Every year, tributes go with some sort of approach to appeal to the crowd. He remembers Justinian, all dazzled up, making self-deprecating jokes that left the crowd roaring with laughter.

"Right, right," James replies. "So, what have you got in mind?"

"Let's find out," Blight replies, grinning his signature grin.

At first, they try cockiness. It might just be the questions Blight's asking, but James simply lacks the arrogance to appear cocky to the audience, or at to appear least cocky and charming at once. Blight shakes his head, mutters how it's good that James doesn't have his head up his ass, and then moves on. Blight tries to make James appear ferocious, but they're four questions in when James stops him.

"What's wrong?" Blight asks, rubbing a hand through his beard.

"I can't appear ferocious," James says.

"Why?"

"Because of Violet," James replies. "I'm gonna at least make an attempt to save her. I can't appear ferocious with a little girl by my side." Quickly he adds, "And not sticking with her in the Games is off the table."

Blight smiles. "Good lad. I was Reaped with a younger girl too. Your approach is respectable." Suddenly, Blight's eyes light up. "What if we worked in two approaches?"

"Two approaches?" James replies, cocking an eyebrow.

"For part of the interview, maybe the questions about Violet, you could act ferocious, but as those questions pass, we move on and you take on a new approach."

"I like it," James says.

After two questions, it's evident that James is not sexy, so they move on. James is too friendly to act mysterious. He's sort of witty, but not enough. Blight tries one of his last approaches: Humorous, and it strikes gold. James nails question after question, and Blight even lets out a snort on occasion.

"Well, James," Blight says, putting away his notepad with a grin, "I think we've got your skill down."

James smiles, but then his mind wanders to Violet, the little girl who he hasn't seen since breakfast earlier in the day. "What's Violet's approach?"

"What do you think?" Blight asks, his green eyes looking into James' own.

"She's gonna act resilient but innocent?"

Blight shakes his head. "Well, innocent might be a bit...relative. We talked it over while you were being forced to walk the walk for Bunting and she's gonna be a defiant little girl. She'll remind the audience that her size isn't where her strengths lay."

"She could play the part," James says, smirking to himself. _The girl's got guts, that's for sure_ , James thinks. "She's tough."

"Damn right she's tough," Blight smirks back. "Stronger than me, that's for sure. I could barely breathe the whole way to the Games. Eques could barely breathe too."

James glances around the fancy living room they've met in more times than James can count. Eques is missing. "Speaking of her, where exactly is Eques?"

"I think she's sleeping," Blight says with a shrug. "She's barely slept since you all started training."

James nods. "When's the interviews?"

Blight glances at a fancy wristwatch James didn't notice on him before; _Maybe Blight's gone shopping_ , James thinks. "Uh, about three or four hours. Make yourself at home. You've got nothing to do until then."

James wanders away after a short while, and resolves himself to taking a long, long shower. At first, he's having fun, pressing buttons that have no explanation: A little button of a plant dumps half a bottle of organic-smelling shampoo on his head; Various knobs adjust where the water's coming from, its heat, and its pressure. James laughs to himself as water sprays him at high-velocity from twenty different directions.

 _Who needs all this luxury?_

After a full ten minutes of this, however, James' mind wanders. He asks himself if Justinian lived in these very quarters, slept in his bed, was showering in this exact shower just a year ago. His happiness slowly fades as he realizes, fully, the nature of Justinian's death. Previously, James had tried not to pay his brother's death any mind. It barely registered when he actually died. After his brother froze to death, his mother fell into a deep depression from which she never awoke from, eventually taking her life on the three-month anniversary of his death.

Before, he acknowledged that Justinian's death was the result of a bad arena. That's all the people from the Capitol think of. The 67th Hunger Games. Nothing but merely a poor choice on the Gamemakers' part. Nobody from the Capitol cares about Justinian Antony Henderson from District 7, who died a slow, cold death sobbing, curled up in a ball.

Nobody cares about his district partner, whose name was Kelsey. She was a beautiful girl, smart, and the best softball catcher in the whole district, maybe even the whole nation. Nobody cares about Kelsey Smithsonian, the eighteen-year-old girl from District 7, who gasped for breath as she, one of the Careers' daggers lodged in her chest.

James realizes that nobody cares about the tributes from District 7, or 8 or 9 or 10 or any of them, as long as their tributes die. The only way for a tribute to be memorable to the Capitol is if they either win or die in a spectacular fashion. Nobody's cared about the tributes from District 7 in eight years. People only remember Tribute 7 from the 60th Hunger Games because the boy from 7, a tall boy named Paulo, somehow found a way to make pipe bombs out of scrap metal and accidentally detonated one when he tripped, which in turn set off all four of them, leaving Paulo in pieces.

James punches the shower wall in frustration.

James is going to make sure that District 7 wins this year.

Whether it be James or Violet, District 7 will have a victor in the 68th Annual Hunger Games.

 _For Justinian_ , James thinks.

 _For Kelsey._

 _For everyone that didn't get the honor they deserved._

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

James faces his prep team the following morning. He's gotten all their names down: Dax, Livius, and Fragrance. James is shocked. The Capitol has named someone Fragrance. The team makes up for it, though: They're energetic and kind and the happiest bunch James has seen in the Capitol. They pour over James, making sure his muscles stand out, defining his eyes, making his eyebrows _somehow_ look fierce. They don't take too much time though, and don't alter James' face as much. For a moment, James is thrilled that he's a boy; He can only imagine what they're doing to Violet, or any of the other girls.

When they're done, Cliff appears, smiling his usual warm smile. "Here," he says, "I have the suit for the Warrior Boy."

James chuckles."Thanks, Cliff," he replies.

James finds himself wearing a stunning black suit that makes him look mysterious, just as he would have suspected. "You look stunning," Dax says admiringly.

James laughs. "Barely, Dax, but thanks."

After meeting up with everyone else from District 7, they take an elevator down to the ground floor. Violet is wearing a white dress on, and with her makeup she almost looks like an angel. Bunting swoons over them, excitedly exclaiming how much the audience will love them. Blight and Eques just stand together, a small smile on both their faces. James looks over at Violet; he hasn't talked to her all day.

"Hey, Vi," James greets her. If there's anyone in the world he can trust right now, it's definitely Violet.

"Hey, James," Violet chirps, smiling.

"How was yesterday?" James asks.

Violet rolls her eyes. "Ugh. Annoying. Bunting wouldn't let me walk."

The elevator laughs as Bunting's face goes red. The escort only says, "It has to be perfect!"

"I'm sure you did just fine, Bunting," smiles Cliff, reaching out and giving Bunting's shoulder a squeeze. This is what James likes about Cliff most; He seems incapable of saying anything negative.

The elevator opens with a ding, and James' heart stops only for a moment.

It's beautiful.

Crowds cheer as James and the other tributes take their seats in an arc near the stage. The stylists have taken their seats in a special section for them, and on an elevated platform the Gamemakers sit. James spots the Head Gamemaker, who looks back at him, only for a moment, before his eyes glance away. Except for that, the Capitol citizens, all shouting out with big grins. James hurriedly walks across the stage, and hopes not to attract any attention. Any confidence he has just flew out the window. He _hates_ public speaking. Hates it. And now he's going to have to talk to the entire country. Every single television set will be on him when he goes up. Electricity will be supplied to every household in Panem tonight.

Talk about pressure.

He takes his seat, next to Violet, who whispers, "I'm nervous."

James whispers back, "Don't be. You'll kill it tonight."

Caesar Flickerman, the man who's hosted the interviews for some thirty-odd years, bounces onto the stage. Except for his ever-changing hair color, which is orange this year (Which reminds him of Bunting), he looks the same from when James first watched the interviews years ago. They do this in the Capitol; They surgically alter you to look younger, prettier, sexier. To James, though, half the Capitol's citizens look weird, so it doesn't have the same effect on him as it does to the people of the Capitol. After a few witty jokes, Caesar sits down and calls up the girl from District 1. Lepus.

James frowns as she walks confidently to the stage. Her smile appeals to the audience but her eyes say something different to James. They tell James that she'll be ferocious in the arena, and she already has it out for James, considering he scored better than her with the Gamemakers and put her axe-throwing skills to shame.

After laughing about her trip to the Capitol and some other niceties that are expected from a girl acting sexy to the Capitol, Lepus throws her hair back and winks to the crowd after her interview ends, with of course ends up with the Capitol audience cheering louder than ever.

The buzzer sounds, and Tybalt takes the stage. He has a golden suit on that actually makes him look kind of ugly. Perhaps this is sort of a brag: Tybalt is the most muscular tribute of them all, so it doesn't matter how ugly he looks in the interviews, he'll still get sponsors. Unlike most of the Career tributes, however, Tybalt doesn't brag: He speaks of his family back home for the most part, and very little about how ferocious he actually is. The buzzer sounds, and then the girl from District 2, Ontario, takes the stage.

They progress down the line, each tribute having a name and an angle.

Pollish, the blonde boy from District 2, is ferocious, just like a Career tribute ought to act.

The boy from District 4, the one who asked him to join the Career pack the first day of training, is named Caesar, and he and Caesar Flickerman laugh about their names.

Olivia, a small girl from District 4, has eyes that would kill and for the most part is rude to Caesar, which James dislikes because Caesar is such a likable man.

The District 5 tributes, Lelon and Steffanie, are quiet and far from outspoken, and when Caesar asks them questions they stutter and pause.

The boy from District 6, whose name is Mick, tries to brag about his score of 7 but anyone can see it's a ruse. Mick is just as horrified as everyone else to be participating in the games. The girl from 6 is so forgettable James doesn't even know her name.

Then Violet is called up and James gives her a high-five and whispers, "Kill it, Vi," into her ear as she takes the stage. Caesar asks her how the Capitol is treating her and she replies that the food is to die for, except the carrots, which are gross. As the interview comes to a close, Violet reminds the crowd that size does not equal strength. Caesar nods knowingly, and reminds the crowd that they'll have to keep an eye on her. The crowd cheers, and the buzzer comes, signaling the end of Violet's interview and the start of James'.

Caesar stands. "Up next is the warrior from District 7, whose brother competed last year, let's have a round of applause for James!"

The crowd breaks into applause as James lets out a short laugh to himself, bounding onto the stage with fake confidence. _Be cool, James. You got this_ , he thinks to himself. _Don't screw up, don't screw up, don't screw up._

James smiles as he sits next to Caesar on a comfortable chair. He has three minutes to woo the crowd, to convince them that he is the one they should spent their not-hard-earned money on. He lets out a deep breath, and their interview starts.

"So, James," starts Caesar, "before we go on, I must ask, just as I have with Violet, how's the Capitol? Has it been well to you since you got here?"

James smiles. This is an easy one, and he's happy that Caesar is the way that he is. Outspoken. Kind. Always guiding the interview for the tributes. "It's been amazing. I have to say, Caesar, the showers are amazing."

The crowd chuckles as Caesar asks, "The showers?" with a smile.

James laughs back. "Yeah. It's confusing, but they're great."

Caesar's eyes twinkle. "Confusing?"

"Too many buttons," James shrugs, which causes the audience to chuckle some more.

"Well, I'm sorry we annoyed you with your buttons," Caesar says with a fake frown. More laughter.

"You just need to, like, label the buttons," James says. "I press all these buttons and I don't know what they do. There's a button that makes your hair smell like a plant, and I really wish I knew that beforehand."

The crowd laughs louder as Caesar asks, "Well, what's wrong with smelling like a plant?"

"What _isn't_ wrong with smelling like a plant?" James asks back with a cocked eyebrow.

After the crowd laughs some more, Caesar grows slightly more serious. "So, James, as we know, your costume was not similar to the ones last year, or the year before that. Have you anything to say about how you felt when the crowd cheered?"

"Well, my stylist has taste," James says, shooting a wink at Cliff, who winks back, "All I can say is the true meaning behind my costume will be revealed in the arena."

"Mysterious, I like it," Caesar smiles. "You've also scored a ten in your private session. That's not happened for District 7 in eight years. Any hints?"

"Nope," James says, crossing his arms defiantly with a smile. "You'll find that out in the arena."

"Come on, come on," Caesar groans. He turns to the audience. "Who wants to find out how he got that amazing ten?" The audience roars, yelling for James to throw them a bone.

"Well," James says, exhaling for effect, "All I can say that is my actions with the Gamemakers are reflective of my district, though I'm sure you'll find that out soon enough."

Caesar chuckles. "Good, good. I'm sure we all will be thrilled in the next few weeks." His eyes light up, like he's just remembered something. "And your district partner, Violet, what have you got to say for her?"

"I've got to say that if anyone in the arena messes with her, then they're messing with me," James says. "But she's fearless and twice as strong as me, so that won't be an issue." This statement feels good to him. He's established further that the other tributes better not touch Violet unless they want an axe in their head.

"Not only a fighter, but a gentlemen," Caesar smiles. His face suddenly darkens. "So, James, we've all been thinking about it since your Reaping. Your brother, Justinian, was Reaped last year."

"That he was," James says with a frown.

"How has this affected your thoughts? Your actions? Anything, anything at all?"

James pauses. What he says next will be heard around the nation, but he doesn't care how weak or strong he sounds, so he just speaks. "For years, Justinian and I were close. Towards the end, we had a few fights, and then he was Reaped and, well, Caesar, it didn't...didn't matter any more. Justinian wasn't killed last year. He died a slow, cold death. And goodbyes aren't enough sometimes. He's gone forever, and maybe the reason I scored that ten was for him." James pauses. He said it, and he's far from teary-eyed. This is good.

Caesar nods, and the audience lets out a few awws for James. Caesar coughs, and then says, "We know you have two brothers and your father back home. Is there anything you want to say to them, or perhaps even to Justinian?"

This was unexpected. James wasn't ready. Usually they don't ask a tribute to address their family. Nonetheless, James racks his brain for the right string of sentences, and then he sits up. He eyes one of the cameras directly, and clears his throat.

"Dad," he starts. "Bucky. Otto. I know last year was tough, tough on all of us, but you need to stay strong. I don't care what anyone tells you. I'm going to fight." He can feel the fire building up inside. "I'm going to fight as hard as I can and for as long as I can. I don't care about my limits. I'm going to fight and I'm going to win. For District 7. For you. For Mom." He exhales. "For Justinian."

The crowd maintains their silence for a moment, and then explodes into cheer as the buzzer sounds. James smiles as Caesar shouts out for another round of applause for the Warrior Boy from District 7, and the crowd cheers even more. He looks over at Cliff and Blight and the rest of them, and they're grinning with their thumbs up. Well, everyone except for Bunting, who's wiping his eyes with a napkin.

James takes his seat, and Violet looks at him with a smile. "You did great."

"Thanks," James huffs, surprised he can even talk with the cheering. He looks over at Violet. "We're partners."

"Partners," Violet smiles as the girl from District 8, Quebec, walks onto the stage. "As if we already weren't."

"We're super-partners now," James shrugs.

The rest of the tributes go up. Scotten, the boy from District 8, speaks of his speed for the most part. The District 9 tributes don't speak much; Both scored a six in their interviews. James doesn't need to be told that both of them don't exactly think they're going to win.

Declan takes the stage, handsome and charming, and makes the audience laugh before finishing with, "Beware the Ace of Spades, Careers." James laughs as the audience asks what that means, and Declan only winks. The girl from District 10 is named Kristina, and has long brown hair and a stunning dress that woos the audience. As she takes the stage, Declan looks at James, and then back at Kristina and nods, as if to say, _She's in the club now._

James nods back. Kristina is part of their alliance now. That makes six tributes against the Careers. It's a six versus six fight. James would say it's fair, but he knows it's not. Even though Kristina looks strong and Caesar questions her on winning several athletic awards back in District 10, with Violet and Amelia, the girl from District 12, it's far from fair. Nonetheless, they're still all bound together by one goal: Killing the Careers.

The pair from District 11 go. The girl, Michaela, is white, unlike most tributes from District 11, and has shiny blue eyes and hair pulled into a bun and while she's charismatic and beautiful, James knows that there's no way she'll win. The boy, tall and strong and dark-skinned, is named Oxford, and for a good reason; He's built like an ox. He's humorous, laughing with Caesar the whole time.

Romeo and Amelia go. As expected, Amelia is a nervous wreck, but Romeo maintains his confidence, speaking of how District 12 has helped prepare him. The audience doesn't know what this means, but James does. It means his life has been so bad for so long that surviving in the Games won't be so difficult.

After standing for the anthem of Panem, they return to the Training Center. Once James enters the seventh floor, everyone is shouting and cheering and slapping the two on the back. Dinner is available immediately, and the meal is filled with accomplishments, laughter, and banter. James feels nice. It's the best meal he's had in his life. Grilled chicken, garlic bread, and french fries. A simple meal by Capitol standards, but a feast by James'.

Once their meal is finished, they watch the interviews again. The people in the room voice disgust when the Careers are on screen and then applaud when James and Violet go up. After Romeo's interview, the room falls silent. The Games are tomorrow. This is the last time James will see Blight or Eques or Bunting either until he wins, or, well, it will be the last time he ever sees them. He hugs Eques politely, who tells him that she'll make sure he gets a gift, but when it comes to Bunting, their escort is crying and gross and his makeup is stained and James pulls him into a hug.

"I'm going to miss you," Bunting snobs.

James smiles sadly. "Me too, Bunting."

After Bunting, there's Blight. Blight hugs him too, and whispers into his ear, "Push yourself, Warrior Boy."

James smiles. "Bye, Blight. Any final advice?"

"Don't die," Blight replies, releasing James from his hug. He clears his throat, and James knows he's about to give real advice. "A good amount of the tributes probably won't be going to the Cornucopia this year. Violet, you run to cover but make sure James can see you, and James, you could fight at the Bloodbath but don't. You're strong, really strong, but you can't hold off attacks from Tybalt and Lepus at the same time. Run to the Cornucopia, get two weapons and maybe a pack, and then clear out of there. Clear?"

"Clear," the two tributes say in unison.

Blight nods. "Good. Get some rest tonight, and, well...good luck to both of you."

Violet stays to talk to Bunting some more, but James turns and heads into his bedroom. Just like every day since he's been Reaped, the day was stressful, and he sheds his suit in exchange for sweatpants and a commando sweater over a T-shirt, just like his first outfit at the train. He dims the lights, and collapses onto the bed, and closes his eyes.

Unlike every other night in the Capitol, he can't sleep.

The sheets are welcoming, the pillow is cold, and he's dressed snugly, but he can't sleep.

He eyes one of three digital clocks in the room as a full hour passes. It reads 10:14 PM.

James rubs his eyes, and the questions he's pushed out of his mind suddenly flood back in. He wonders what the terrain will be like. He's always assumed a forest, or maybe a swamp, but odds are they won't. Last year not only Justinian froze; Sixteen out of the twenty-four tributes either froze to death or were killed while suffering from extreme hypothermia. Perhaps they'll make up for it with a scorching desert. Or maybe they'll act like last year wasn't boring and just have a normal arena.

James assumes it has trees. It'll probably have trees. It _has_ to have trees. For fire. If there's a tree he could leave Violet in it and go scavenging. A cave would be better. He hopes there's a cave.

Assuming he can find a cave and there's water, then what? James could hunt rabbits, but he needs a bow for that, or at least a spear, neither of which he's used (Except for several years ago with Ven). He could try to hit a rabbit with an axe, but rabbits are too fast. Berries would keep Violet going, but not him.

If, by some chance, he makes it to the Cornucopia and back with axe and a pack, the food would only last him and Violet a few days, combined with berries. If he wants to hold out to the Feast, which happens maybe a week or two into the Games, he'll need to find some form of sustenance.

He'll have to kill.

James has never been a violent person, but he's seen what the Games have done. He's considered it, the concept of murdering for the Capitol, ever since he was made available for tesserae five years ago, and now the reality is pushing in. James can only hope that when the time comes, he'll only kill those who are attacking him or Violet and nobody else. He also hopes that if or when he kills someone, he'll be able to forgive himself.

He hopes.

By now, it's 10:30 and James wriggles out of bed and paces over to the window. He can't hear it through the thick window glass, but down on the streets the Capitol is having a party. He vaguely remembers hearing something about it from Blight, but he hasn't seen it. The Capitol citizens are going crazy. Most wouldn't wake up by noon at this point, what with their partying, but what with the Games, they'll all rise to watch the Games occur.

Sighing, James goes back to bed.

He tosses and turns for an hour before sleep finally takes him, and James fades into a worried but dreamless sleep.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

James sits in the hovercraft with Cliff. After waking up at the crack of dawn and getting chipped, they were ordered to sit tight until they reach the arena. He has no idea where Violet is, though she's probably in a similar hovercraft, accelerating towards the arena at a speed unseen by the both of them until now.

"How do you feel?" Cliff asks, his eyes sad.

"Nervous. Cliff, I'm terrified," James replies. He's never felt this nervous before, not in his whole life. Probably because nothing in his whole life was ever this dangerous. Twenty-three people his age or younger, tasked with killing him.

Cliff ponders this for a moment before opening his mouth. "This too shall pass."

"What?" James asks.

"This too shall pass," Cliff repeats. "It's something my mother used to say to me. It means that whatever you're experiencing right now, eventually it will pass. I won't tell you to take deep breaths, because, well, that never helped me, but just know that eventually, what you're feeling, it's gonna pass."

"I guess," James exhales. "I'm just...I don't wanna die."

"Nobody wants to die," Cliff replies. "The whole thing with the Hunger Games is that the victor is the boy or girl who didn't want to die the most." He leans in. "If you keep your wits about you and don't do anything stupid, then you'll be the victor. You've got lots of admirers in the Capitol, James. Admirers who want to send you food and water, and even weapons. If you manage to stay alive long enough, then you'll get those gifts."

James nods. "Thanks, Cliff."

"Anytime." Cliff leans back.

James had never seen this part of Cliff before, but Cliff was right: If he wasn't stupid and didn't let fear take advantage of him, he'd win.

He'd win.

For the next hour or so, they travel in the hovercraft until they darken the windows for another half hour. Past that, the hovercraft lands, and down the ladder they go, into the underground Launch Room. Well, Launch Room is what the Capitol says. Everyone calls it the Stockyard in the districts. James showers and brushes his teeth. Unlike the training center, he's the first person to use this Launch Room. He'll also be the last.

Cliff gives James his outfit. It's a simple outfit, typical tribute gear: Leather boots designed for running, not warmth, with cotton socks underneath, tawny pants, an olive T-shirt, and a black windbreaker underneath. There's a leather belt that accompanies it, and James puts it on. It has loops for a knife or a hatchet, and otherwise fits well.

James is zipping up his windbreaker when Cliff hands him the clover necklace that Iris gave him.

"Where'd you get this?" James asks, happily putting it on. He forgot about it.

"They took it off you when you first came to the Capitol," Cliff reminds him. "Review board cleared it easily enough. Hope it gives you good luck."

"Me, too," James sighs. The lightweight necklace feels natural around his neck, and James adjusts it so it's not visible over his windbreaker. If that was the case, it'd fly around everywhere. James sits on a couch, and kisses the clover on the necklace. Normally, it would seem odd to James for him to do this, but James figures that he needs all the help he could get.

Cliff plops down on the couch. "Fit well?"

"Perfect."

Cliff puts a hand on James' shoulder and gives a brief squeeze. "Good."

They sit like that for the next twenty minutes, until the pleasant female voice announces that it's time to prepare for launch into the arena. James stands, exhales loudly, and paces over to the circular plate. He turns, and looks at Cliff.

"Run fast, get a weapon, and get to Violet," Cliff instructs. "Don't waste time on anything else."

James nods. "I will."

Cliff steps forward and gives him a hug. After he releases from it, Cliff says, "I can't bet, but you know it'd be on you. Good luck, Warrior Boy."

"Thank you, Cliff," James smiles. "If I don't make it out, then...you were the best stylist a stylist could be. Thank you so much."

Cliff's eyes are teary now. "Yeah. Sure. Now...now go win. I'll see you in two weeks."

The cylinder James is on starts to accelerate upwards, and James is plunged in darkness for a few seconds until his cylinder rises into the arena. He's blinded for a moment, and then he looks around.

Immediately James sighs with relief.

He's in a field with hard-packed dirt, probably hard enough to run on. To James' left, a big lake. It's customary for them to put lakes near the Cornucopia To the north, more plains and then a swamp. To his right, forest. James cranes his neck behind him to see even more forest.

Blight and Eques want them to go to the forest. The swamp's a death trap, and the Careers will reach the lake before anyone else.

James looks to his right. It's the girl from District 6, Kristina. She eyes him cautiously, and then taps her shoulder three times.

The code.

Two taps means Cornucopia, three taps means run away.

James nods, and taps his shoulder twice, earning a nod from Kristina. He looks over at Declan, who's three tributes to his right. He nods at the golden crown that is the Cornucopia, and taps his bicep twice. James does the same. Violet is five tributes to his right, and is pointing discreetly to a cluster of trees closer to her, the trees that mark the beginning of the forest. James nods. Romeo is across, on the other side of the arena, and so is Amelia, so their motions can't be seen.

"Ladies and gentlemen," booms Claudius Templesmith, "Let the Sixty-Eighth Hunger Games begin!"

James winces at the announcement, and then leans forward, ever-so-slightly, so that when he runs off of his plate, he'll be able to get a running start. To his direct left is the boy from District 4, Caesar, who glares at him. James glares back, and drags his thumb against his throat. Caesar pales for a moment, and quickly glances away.

James racks his brain for his strategy. Run to Cornucopia, get axe, get backpack, run to Violet.

Cornucopia.

Axe.

Backpack.

Violet.

Run.

He racks his head over and over and over until he thinks he's ready.

James leans forward some more, and the gong sounds.

The Sixty-Eighth Hunger Games have just begun.

* * *

 _Yay, Chapter Five, and a cliffhanger! Ironically, I said this was going to be a short chapter, but it turned out to be the longest chapter yet, clocking in at 5,750 words (Excluding this little bit, of course). I had been planning what James had to say in the interview from the get-go when I started this story, and I feel like it does a lot to highlight who James is as a character. James' frustration was also highlighted, as seen when he was in the shower. Next chapter will include the Cornucopia bloodbath and maybe the day after, I'm not gonna say. Anyway, thanks for reviewing and favoriting, and I'll see you in the next chapter!_

 _Reviews:_

 _polkadotdoughnut: Thanks so much for your support! To answer why Johanna isn't in the story: Johanna was said to have won the 71st Hunger Games, which of course happens three years after this story's origin. Blight is the only canon District 7 victor at this moment, so that's why Johanna isn't in the story: She's not a victor at this point in time._

 _-C_


	6. Chapter Six: Happy Hunger Games!

_"I will not die without fighting for a life I am not yet done living." -Bethany Wiggins_

* * *

In a flash, James is running, stampeding towards the Cornucopia, towards the outer region of weapons, where he spots two axes and a knife, sitting on a crate. James can feel his heart pounding, hear his breathing and his feet hitting the firm ground, and out of the corner of his eyes see tributes running towards the Cornucopia.

He's twenty feet away.

Fifteen. He can't let anyone get to the weapons first.

Ten. By now, the boy from District 4, Caesar is right on his heels.

Five. They'll be the first ones to reach the Cornucopia. Everyone else is slower than them.

James nearly barrels into the crate, and quickly picks up the knife. Caesar pushes James to the ground, and grabs one of the axes. Turning towards James, who's already scrambled to his feet, Caesar lunges forward, swinging at James with a knife.

Acting on instincts James didn't know he had, James ducks to the right, letting the axe cut through the air. Caesar tries to recover, but he swung too hard and in an instant, James slices open Caesar's throat.

The boy from District 4 who laughed with Caesar Flickerman just last night drops the axe and falters, falling to the ground and thrashing as he clutches his fatal wound.

James mouths, _I'm sorry,_ but his brain reminds him that it's time to go. He quickly drops the knife and scoops up the axe, hooking it on his belt, and picking up the second axe, before reaching for a bright, big orange backpack with a sleeping bag attached to it on the ground. By now, tributes have reached the Cornucopia and are battling it out. Out of the corner of his eye, Tybalt checks a girl, sending her flying before plunging a sword into the boy from District 5, Lelon.

James has no time to think about his actions as he turns to run towards the forest, where Violet is currently running to. He takes a step forward when he hears a loud yelp. Glancing to his right, he looks at two tributes, grappling on the ground. On top is Oxford, the muscular boy from District 11.

And on the bottom is Declan.

Declan's strong, but Oxford's on top, his hands gripped around Declan's throat. Without even thinking, James steps past Caesar, who's still thrashing wildly, and closes the gap between him and the two boys. Raising his boot, James kicks Oxford square in the neck, sending him off of Declan.

Oxford, gasping for air, looks up at James in horror before scrambling to his feet and running away. James only looks at Declan, gasping for breath as well, and nods at the boy from District 10. Declan nods back, his eyes wild but full of confusion. Almost as if he thought James would kill him too, and is confused as to why he's even alive.

James looks behind him and sees Pollish, closer than the other Careers, fighting with the boy from District 3, and then he hears a scream. A little girl's scream. James quickly turns towards Violet's direction, and sees the boy from District 8 holding Violet in his arms, laughing wildly.

Instantly, James is running, sprinting, pushing himself to be as fast as he can go as he runs, barreling towards Violet and the boy from District 8. Violet's at least a hundred feet away, but James is running fast. The boy from 8 doesn't notice James as he closes the gap quickly, and within fifteen seconds he's only a few feet away.

The boy from District 8 turns towards James now, holding Violet in one of his arms, and flashes a knife towards James. James falters only for a moment. Violet's eyes are full of terror, and she's looking at James now, her eyes pleading him, begging him to save her.

"Drop your weapons, 7," The boy from 8, his name might be Scotten, curtly orders, grinning wildly. "Or I swear I'll gut her!"

"You'll do what? You'll do _what_!" James shouts. " _You'll do what_!" His voice is filled with rage, and spittle flies into the air.

Scotten realizes his mistake in wording, and throws Violet to the ground, raising his knife. Before he can even attempt to plunge downwards, James dashes forward and swings the axe into the boy's hip. Scotten drops his knife and howls in pain, but before he can scream any further James pulls the axe out and buries it in the boy's chest. He gasps for a moment, and then his eyes grow glossy and his body goes limp, and amid the pounding in his ears, James hears a cannon.

James quickly grabs the knife, looping it on his belt, and then scoops up Violet. A bloody hatchet in one hand and a little girl in the other, James runs into the forest.

He runs, crashing through branches and thorns and bushes, running as fast as his legs will carry him. Squirrels and rabbits dart out of the way for him as James runs, Violet weeping softly into his neck. Her breath is warm, but James feels cold as he keeps on running.

He runs for what feels like hours and hours but couldn't be more than forty until his legs are numb and he's gasping for breath and his muscles scream for him to let Violet walk on her own and then and only then does he stop.

He lets Violet sit down, her tears dry, and collapses against a tree. Around him, there are only trees and bushes and more trees. He catches his breath, sitting with the bloody hatchet and the orange backpack and the little girl for twenty minutes, and neither of them speak. After he hears another cannon go off, James sullenly rises and looks around to where he stopped.

He's on top of a hill, and further down the hill, maybe a hundred feet away, he can see a small pond. His throat screams for water, and he unzips his windbreaker. His arms, covered in sweat and trapped by the windbreaker, are bright-red from all his running.

"James," Violet says. The confident little girl from last night is gone. The frightened girl replaces her.

"Yeah?" James pants, looking towards Violet.

"You killed him," Violet says, her voice shaky. "You killed that boy."

"He was trying to hurt you," James replies through ragged breaths. "He wanted to kill you, Violet. I wasn't going to let that happen." James wipes blood, whose he doesn't know, on his pants. "I wasn't."

"Why?" Violet asks. "Why didn't you let him kill me?"

James knows that it's not because Violet doesn't want to live, it's that she's confused that James cared about her enough to fight for her. "What I've been saying this past week or so, it isn't bull. Violet, I care about you. I'm not gonna let anything happen to you."

"You're not?" Violet asks, any resemblance of cockiness gone from her voice.

James shakes his head. "I won't let anyone hurt you. Not while I still have a pulse. Now, let's go down to the pond and see what we have."

Violet sniffs. "Okay."

James crumples up his windbreaker in one hand, and together, the two of them start down towards the pond.

When they reach the bottom, James inspects the pond further. It's not deep, not wide, but has water. James sits on a ledge that hovers directly above the pond by a few feet, and zips open the bag.

"What do we have?" Violet asks, peering into the bag.

James digs through it and announces his findings: A roll of black duct tape, a roll of bandages, a package of beef jerky, a packet of water purification tablets, and two water bottles. One's half full, the other's fully empty. This doesn't include the sleeping bag itself, which will fit Violet snugly and James from the waist down.

"That's not bad, is it?" Violet asks as James hands her the bottle of water.

"No, it's quite good," James replies. "Drink."

Violet drinks half of the water, and offers the rest to James. "Now you."

James eyes the water. "Are you still thirsty?"

Violet nods. "Yeah, but you need it more."

"No, I don't," James flatly replies. "Not 'till you drink enough."

"Why? You're stronger than me," Violet frowns.

"I've got plenty of water," James replies with a smirk, pointing at the pond and then the tablets. "You need water now. I can do without for a few minutes."

"If you want," Violet replies before putting her lips to the bottle and chugging the rest of it. "Now what?"

"Keep an eye out," James replies, handing her Scotten's knife. "I'm gonna go purify some water. Or at least figure out how to."

James leaves Violet on the edge, shimmying towards the pond for a few feet until he reaches the foot of the pond. Bending down with a grunt (His calves ache terribly), James bends down and reads the label on the water. In small font, it reads:

 _Usage: One tablet for 16oz of liquid. Shake firmly and wait for thirty minutes prior to consumption of purified water._

James glances at the water; Its label reads "16oz." James shrugs, and dips the bottle into the water. When it's full, James plops a tablet into the water, and does the same for the bottle that Violet drank. He shakes the two bottles firmly, and sets them aside in the soil to purify.

"How long does it take?" Violet hisses from above the ledge, only a few feet away.

"A half hour," James replies, unhooking the bloody hatchet. "If you've got any reading to do, I'd do it now."

As James dips the hatchet into the water, cleansing it of blood, Violet calls out, "What if someone comes here?"

"Then they'll regret it," James firmly replies. "The two of us, we're a team. If anyone tries to fight us, we'll scare 'em off."

"What about the Careers?"

James dries the hatchet against the windbreaker. "The Careers won't come here. They're at the Cornucopia. Odds are most of the initial fighting's done. They won't come for us until a few hours, though. They've gotta check the spoils of the Cornucopia."

"Like what?" Violet asks. James has to remind himself that she's only twelve, and while she's not dumb, she hasn't been paying attention to the Hunger Games for most of her life.

"Like...food. Weapons," James replies, digging through his pack for the duct tape. "They have the lake for water, but they'll need food. The Careers have enough food to last for most of the Games. At least until the Feast."

"How about us?" Violet asks, twirling the knife in her hand. "We've got beef jerky."

"People have lived on much less," James replies. "We have the jerky, and also everything around us. When we leave the pond, we'll take any berries that we can find. Hope you like blueberries."

"Blueberries are great," Violet shrugs. "Where are we gonna sleep?"

Crouching, James peels off some of the black duct tape and starts to cover the pack with it. It's large, a mountaineering backpack by the looks of things, and unless James covers it up they'll have to ditch it. As he works on making the pack black, James replies, "Trees, probably, until we can find a cave. It's not safe sleeping on the ground."

"Why?"

"Careers are on the ground," James responds. "Have you ever heard the old story about risking your life? The one with the wolf?"

Violet shakes her head.

James smiles to himself. Otto always used to scare him about the story. "Well, the story goes that a man heard tales of a forest, guarded by a huge wolf, that at the other end of it had gold." James covers the straps of the pack with the tape. "So, naturally, being the greedy asshole that he was, the guy crossed the forest, and found his gold, but couldn't carry all of it. He walked back to the town, and an old man warned him of going back to get more gold."

"What'd the old man say?" Violet asks.

"The old man said that the greedy guy needed enough luck to cross the forest every time to get the gold and back, but the wolf only needed enough luck to find him just once."

"So how's it end?" Violet's enthralled now, the little kid in her coming out.

James reaches over, and puts some of the duct tape over the handles of the hatchets. They're good quality, sharp steel, but their grips are slippery. "Well, the greedy guy kept going back to the forest again and again, and guess what happened to him?"

"What?"

"The wolf got lucky just once," James replies. He laughs at Violet's pale face. "I know, it freaked me out when I was a kid, but it has a good lesson, now that we're here. The Careers only need enough luck to find us once, and there are five of them. We have to be careful, Violet, or we won't get lucky."

Violet nods. "What do we do now?"

James puts the bottles in the bag, which has been coated in black by the duct tape. "Let's try to find shelter. A cave would be ideal."

In the distance, James hears a cannon. He wonders who it is. Romeo maybe? Kristina? Maybe even Declan tried to take on Tybalt. It doesn't matter. He'll find out in a few hours."

Shrugging on the pack, James leaves one of the hatchets looped to his belt and grips the other one in his hand. "Now let's go. We're burnin' daylight."

Together, the two of them walk. James tries to walk towards the Cornucopia. It's dumb, he knows, but he thinks he might've passed a cave when he was running with Violet. On they march, for several hours, until the sun's almost fully set. They are about to shrouded in darkness, with the wild animals and the other tributes.

James peers up a tree until he sees a willow, with thick branches and enough cover to hide both of them. "Come on, Vi. You know how to climb?"

"Of course I do," Violet snorts. James smiles as he follows the girl up the tree. The shocked little girl is starting to fade away, replaced with the Violet he's known since she was Reaped.

They find themselves above the trees, able to see down onto the ground but not able to be seen. Violet sits on a long, flat branch right next to James, who sits snuggled in-between a notch in the tree. He hands Violet the sleeping bag. She can sleep comfortably on the branch, but if James falls asleep he'll fall out out of the tree while sleeping and fall, injuring himself, which guarantees the death of both of them.

James sits a few feet away from Violet as the anthem of Panem plays, and the images of the dead tributes flash in the sky. At home, James would see how every tribute died, but here, where strategy comes into play, all they get are images.

Altogether, eight images flash in the sky.

The first is Christopher, the boy from District 3, a boy with blonde hair who James remembers dueling with Pollish. It isn't shocking that Pollish won.

The next is Caesar. James feels a pang of guilt and a tinge of horror as he remembers slashing open Caesar's throat. It should come as no surprise to James that Caesar died of his wounds, but it still stuns him.

Followed by that is Lelon, the young boy from District 5 who was quiet at best. James forces the memory of Tybalt running him through out of his head.

Next is the girl from District 6. James doesn't even know her name.

Followed by that is the girl from District 8, Quebec, followed by Scotten. James shudders. He killed Caesar in self-defense, but there was pure rage in James right before Scotten died, saw the fear in the boy's eyes before he split open his chest. Both James' and Scotten's family will have watched James kill him violently. Buck won't understand what's happening, but he wonders what his father will think. What Otto will think. What everyone will think.

Both tributes from District 9 flash on the sky. James doesn't know either of their names.

As the lights in the sky fade, leaving James in darkness, he starts to do the math. Violet's fallen asleep in minutes, somehow, despite the traumatizing events of the day, leaving James in peace to think.

Only eight tributes are dead. That means sixteen live. Five Career tributes: both from 1 and 2 and the girl from 4. The female from District 3, Kaylana. The girl from 5. Mick, the boy from District 6. Everyone from Districts 7, 10, 11, and 12 are alive. Both Declan and Romeo have made it. Unsurprising, but a relief nonetheless.

It's strange. Sixteen of them are alive, which is a high amount considering ten to twelve usually die at the Cornucopia. On top of that, all of the tributes from the three lowest districts have survived the first day. The kids from 11 and 12 are usually the first to be slaughtered at the Cornucopia. James remembers kicking Oxford in the neck. He could've easily killed him, but let him live. Why, he doesn't know.

 _He'll probably be dead by a week_ , James dismisses.

As the night wears on, all he hears are the sounds of bugs in the nighttime. It gets chilly, and before long James zips up his windbreaker. Violet was sleeping quietly, soundly, in the branch next to him, and James would sleep, but he can't. He has a little girl to watch over.

After a few hours of sitting in the dark, James can't help but think about Caesar and Scotten. He's sure his brain won't let him forget about either of their deaths for a long time; It's possible the sound of Scotten screaming in pain won't ever leave him. James relives slashing open Caesar's throat and burying the axe in Scotten's chest.

He won't be sleeping anytime soon. Just a few minutes later, a cannon fires.

The Careers have claimed their first victim of the night.

James figured they'd be hunting by now, but the acknowledgement of this by the cannons frightens him a bit. He's strong, and is good with an axe, but there's no way he'll be able to fend off all five of them. He's sure by now that at least one of them knows that James was Caesar's killer.

A half hour later, his body is almost letting him to go sleep when the scream awakens him.

James instantly looks over to Violet, shaken awake by the scream, who looks at him and shakes her head. She's right. It wasn't her. It was further off. Maybe fifty feet away, but a followup scream is closer, and James hears footsteps crashing through the darkness.

James puts a finger to his lips, and Violet nods James silently glances towards the sound of the scream, and in the dim light, he can make out a figure running towards the tree. As it nears, James grips the hatchet in his hand. The figure gets closer to them, and then collapses, crawling towards the tree until it reaches the tree's bottom.

"Please," the figure calls out. A girl. "Please don't kill me."

"Don't struggle," a voice commands. A boy's. Deep. Whoever it is, they sound alone

The girl only weeps as the second figure kneels down beside the girl, who's breathing hard and crying.

"Please don't," the girl weeps. "Please. I'll...I'll give you everything I have."

The figure snickers, and it's a noise that James recognizes. "Nice try, 12."

The girl lets out a final scream as James watches the boy hack into the girl with a machete. A cannon sounds a moment later. The boy shuffles through her pack for a moment before stepping away and running through the night, crashing through trees as he went.

Not only did James witness a murder, he recognized the voice of the killer.

Oxford.

* * *

 _The Games have actually started, woo! This chapter I wrote in three hours immediately after publishing Chapter Five, and is a solid 3,500 words. This chapter totally went in a different direction than I aimed. Not that it matters, but when I first planned out this chapter Caesar wasn't supposed to be killed until later, Oxford was supposed to have been killed by Declan, and that ending bit with the willow tree wasn't even planned._

 _Nonetheless, we have eighteen tributes! You'll find who was killed at the end of next chapter, but Oxford did kill the girl, that much I will confirm. This is going to come as a sort of slap in the face to James: He spared a boy's life, only for him to kill a girl and grow a bit sadistic. I won't say anything else about Oxford, but you will see more of him eventually._

 _Thanks for the support, and I'll see you all next chapter!_

 _-C_


	7. Chapter Seven: Luck of the Iris

_"There is always danger for those who are afraid." -George Bernard Shaw._

* * *

When James was younger, fifteen maybe, the whole school had a big manhunt tournament. It was played at night, at and around the high school, and Grant was on his team, along with much of his team from football. When the game started, within ten minutes at least half of James' team was caught. As the night dragged on, James and Grant, who were hiding near each other in a bush, heard occasional shouts that signaled one of James' team had been found.

As the games continued, James heard the yelps of alarm from people on his team being discovered grow closer and closer, and James decided to scale a nearby tree. It was tough, but after a minute or two, James was safely perched up in the tree. Flashlights from the enemy team were encroaching on them, and Grant decided to try and make a run for it.

Just like anything Grant does, it failed, and the boy tripped after taking two steps. One of the boys on the enemy team, Edsel, found him after a few seconds. James didn't say anything as his best friend was tagged and disqualified from the rest of the match. He remained hidden during the entire encounter, and it was one of the most tense experiences of his life.

Now, in the arena, hidden in the willow tree, James holds his breath for half a minute before his lungs remind him to breathe. He looks over, down at the dead girl, crumpled in a heap, and then over at Violet. In the darkness of night, her face is pale, and James can't help but feel sorry for her. Too much death for a little girl. Too much death for anyone, really.

The birds around them, who have been chirping throughout the night, suddenly hush. Birds would only do that if something big is approaching.

The hovercraft.

James scans the ground for any signs of Oxford, who looks to be long gone by now, and then looks at Violet again. He whispers, "I'm going down."

"What? No!" Violet hisses. "He could still be here!"

"Violet, we have barely any food," James whispers back. "We have to get her pack before the hovercraft takes her."

Violet hesitates being whispering, "Fine. Just...please be safe."

"I will," James replies quietly, before readjusting the grip on his hatchet. Carefully but quickly, James climbs down the tree, and almost noiselessly hits the grass.

He can hear the hovercraft by now, and quickly looks at the girl's face.

It's Amelia.

James lets out a sad sigh, and quickly frees her from her backpack, a black drawstring bag, before reaching out and closing her eyelids. He starts back up the tree just in time, as a pair of metal teeth reach down, grab her, and take away the girl from District 12.

"Who was it?" Violet whispers when he's back.

"I dunno," James lies. "I couldn't get a good look." Amelia was part of their alliance, which means that Amelia was their friend. James can't stomach telling Violet that their friend was just killed while they did nothing.

"Did you get her bag?" Violet asks in a hushed tone.

"Yeah," James replies. "I can't see into it now, when it's bright out we'll check."

"Okay," Violet says, and that's the last thing either of them say for awhile.

James still has the large, camouflaged mountaineering bag strapped to him. It's large; With the sleeping bag on, it takes up his whole back. The drawstring bag is smaller, more fit for someone like Violet. James presses the bag close to his chest and prays that it has something helpful. By the sound of things, Oxford only shuffled around in the pack for a few seconds before running off.

James can't tell how late it is, but if he had to guess, it'd probably be around three to four in the morning. He's still covered in darkness, and he still hasn't slept. His legs ache from all the running of yesterday, and his eyes feel heavy. He can't sleep now. He'll sleep when they find shelter.

Hooking the second hatchet on his belt, James rests against the tree and begins to think. With Amelia dead, their alliance is now down to five. Five Careers. Five of them. James doesn't know who the other tribute killed a few hours ago was, so they might be down to four. He wonders what everyone else is doing.

Oxford probably still hasn't settled down in the few minutes since the pair saw him run. The Careers are probably out hunting. Odds are they were the ones who killed the tribute a few hours ago. Romeo's much too smart to be moving in the darkness, and Declan probably isn't moving, either. As for Kristina, she's probably curled up in a ball somewhere, or hiding in a tree.

As the minutes pass, James' mind wanders to what everyone in the districts are thinking. The people in District 4 must hate James by now, but they still have Olivia. So far, two districts' tributes have been wiped off the map completely: Both tributes from Districts 8 and 9 were killed. James wonders what his father will think. Otto and Ven probably aren't stunned that James has killed twice, but his father might be a bit shocked. James wonders what Grant thinks by now. If they didn't see James kill them right when it happened, then it would've been played a few hours ago when they showed the dead tributes.

Oxford killing Amelia while James and Violet only watched would have been televised, too. The people of District 12 probably hate James and Violet. James more. Violet's a scared little girl with a knife, but James is a muscular boy with two axes. He could've saved Amelia, but he just watched.

James curses himself for not helping the dead girl, and promises to himself that he'll avenge her.

In the next hour, dawn breaks, and James maneuvers his way down the tree, Violet right behind him. When they reach the ground, James steps around the bloodstain on the grass. James tosses Violet the drawstring bag, and Violet hands him the sleeping bag.

"What've you got?" James asks as he rolls up the sleeping bag and ties it to the large mountain pack. It's warm in the early morning, and James stuffs his black windbreaker into the backpack, leaving him with only an olive T-shirt on.

"Hmm...a firestriker...an empty water bottle...a compass...and a granola bar!" Violet's voice squeals at the end with joy, like a little kid who just got a toy for Christmas.

"Nice," James grins. "Keep the bottle and the granola bar, and I'll take the compass."

"What about the firestriker?" Violet asks, holding it up; It's silver and a few inches long. Helpful for starting fires, but James knows from past games that starting fires is suicide.

"Keep it, I guess," James shrugs. "We shouldn't be starting fires, but you could probably throw it at someone or something."

After James is tossed the compass, he tries to think of where the Cornucopia was. It's not that he wants to be travelling towards the Careers, but it's that he doesn't want to explore into the far regions of the arena. Every time someone strays too far the Gamemakers throw some sort of twist at them in order to draw the tributes closer. Last year, everyone died so quickly that there was no need, but two years ago they started bombing the arena, which was a lush swamp. Trees splintered apart and shredded the tributes viciously, and they had to stop after five tributes were dead in two minutes.

Still, the Cornucopia is to the north of them, and to the north they march.

For the first thirty minutes, neither of them talks, grunting over bushes and twigs and slopes. After that, though, Violet asks James if he has any pets back in District 7. James responds that they used to have a dog, but it died a few years ago. Violet frowns and replies that she has a cat named Fluffy. Fluffy's a tabby who's incredibly fat and is only four years old. James laughs, and Violet asks if he wants another dog. After a moment, James replies that if he's alive in a few weeks, he'll get a big dog and name him Bandit. Violet agrees with this idea.

As they hike closer and closer to the Cornucopia, James and Violet speak more to each other. James learns that Violet's favorite color is, unsurprisingly, violet. James acknowledges that his favorite color flipped for awhile, from orange to purple to green before finally settling on navy blue.

James is so tired and so busy talking about colors that he barely misses the cave.

Violet stops too, and asks, "You see it too, right?"

"Yeah," James nods, unhooking his hatchet. "Take your knife out. Someone might be in there."

The cave isn't covered at all, but it looks vacant. Just another part of the arena. James nears the cave, which is surrounded by trees and not in a rocky region (As caves should be) of a hill, and quickly lunges forward, stepping into the cave, hatchet at the ready.

It's empty.

James sighs in relief, and turns to Violet. He hisses, "It's empty, c'mon!"

The cave, which is more or less a big hole in the hill, isn't too deep, but is wide enough to offer sleeping space for the two of them. Violet steps into the cave entrance. The girl looks around and says, "Is this home now?"

"Home, sweet, home," James replies, inspecting the cave further. It's not easily defensible, but James could probably hide the entrance.

Violet plops down, assorting things through her bag; She tosses the firestriker to the ground. "Now what?"

James sighs. He'd love to go looking for food, but the cave can be seen too easily. "Now you sit tight."

James drops his pack, rubbing his sore shoulders, and steps back into the forest.

The next hour is spent hiding the cave. At first James drags a bush over it, but that doesn't cover the whole entrance, so James picks the next thing he can find: A small tree. Eight inches in diameter, the tree is no easy task, especially with just an axe, but James manages. The knowledge from school kicks in as he's cutting. A chainsaw would, obviously, be the fastest choice here that isn't machinery, but centuries ago they used crosscut saws to cut down their lumber. It would be so much better than the small hatchet, which takes much more time and energy.

James decides to ignore the impossible reality of obtaining easier tools and grunts as he cuts down the tree. James drags it over to the bush, and the tree, combined with another shrub James drags over, successfully hides the tree. If anyone wanted to further inspect James' disguise, their home would be discovered, but to the passerby it looks like a fallen tree.

James enters the concealed cave to find Violet throwing rocks against another wall of the cave. She looks up. "Nice work."

"Thanks, Vi," James sighs, walking over to his backpack and resting against it. Even though it's large and clunky, it is comforting. Almost feels like a chair.

"Now what?" Violet asks again.

James considers the options. They could look for food, but James is exhausted. He's tried to teach himself not to give into fatigue, but he's been awake for at least thirty hours and his legs, eyes, and arms feel like they weigh a hundred pounds each. Even trying to move aches with exhaustion. He looks over at Violet. "I gotta sleep, Vi."

Violet nods. "I know you do. I'll go look for food."

"No, don't," James replies, closing his eyes as he rests against his bag. "It's not safe."

"Alright, I'll just...I'll wait."

"Good," James sighs.

Within five minutes, he's sound asleep.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

James was startled awake by the boom of Panem's anthem. Violet, sitting crisscrossed beside him, reaches out and touches his shoulder. "Shh, you're fine."

James stretches, grunting as he does so; He couldn't have slept for more than five hours, but his body feels fully replenished. James yawns. "How was the day?"

"Boring," Violet replies. "I got some berries and nuts."

"You went out?" James asks, a tinge of agitation in his voice. He told Violet not to go out, and she did just that. He shouldn't be aggravated, but the thought of her dying while he slept is too much to think of.

"Calm down, I walked ten feet," Violet replies, the sarcasm in his voice unmissable. "I don't know how you missed them."

"I'm blind as a bat," James shrugs. He's happy now; Violet isn't acting as timid or as distant as before. She's acting almost like she was back before the Games started. It's only two days ago, but feels like it was decades ago that James was being interviewed by Caesar Flickerman.

Together, the two of them inch forward, looking out into the calm night sky. The national anthem is over now, and the first tribute's image flickers in the sky.

Steffanie. The girl from District 5. She's sixteen years old if James remembers. Three little girls, her sisters, sobbed as she came to the stage on her Reaping. James feels a pang of sadness for this girl who he's said approximately zero words to. She was the tribute killed just hours into the first night.

Then flashes Amelia into the night sky. Beside him, Violet gasps quietly. "She was the girl that died right below us in the tree."

James frowns. He knew this only a few minutes after she died, but he forgot he kept it a secret from Violet. The lie seems stupid now; He should've told her right as he found out. Nevertheless, James says, "Yeah, she did. I feel bad that we didn't help her."

"We'll make up for it."

James looks out into the sky. No other tributes have died today. They're down to fourteen. "Yeah. We will."

"Who killed her?" Violet asks in a whisper. "The Careers? Declan?"

"No," James replies. "Oxford. The black kid from 11."

"He freaks me out," Violet replies.

"He's strong and he's dangerous and he seems just a bit crazy, which isn't good," James whispers as they start to edge back into the cave's wall. "But we can take him together." James pulls out his hatchet. "Now sleep. I'll take first watch."

"No, I will," Violet insists.

"I just slept," James frowns.

"Yeah, but not enough," Violet replies. "You need to rest all night if you're gonna be okay."

James' frown extends even more, but he sighs. Knowing Violet won't stop until he gives in, James says, "Fine. Wake me up if something's wrong."

"Sure thing, boss," Violet says with a dumb accent, and James just smirks as he rests up against his bag.

He closes his eyes, and after almost a full fifteen minutes, he's finally drifting off to sleep when Violet taps him on the shoulder. Hard. James glances up, glaring at her at first, but the fear on her face is unmistakable. She holds a finger to her lips, much like James did the previous night, and points outside.

Inching forward at a snail's pace, James eventually reaches the cave entrance, hidden by bushes, where he sees them, standing right outside the cave.

The Careers.

Two of them, Lepus and Olivia, are carrying torches, and the other two, Tybalt and Pollish, are holding menacing weapons. The group is standing in a circle, murmuring to each other, but none of them are looking directly at the cave. James realizes that they don't know that they're in the cave, and relief floods him. Still, if he makes even the slightest noise, they'll hear him and then he's dead for sure.

"What's the plan?" Tybalt asks. His voice is deep and commanding, and unlike the other Careers he doesn't seem cocky. Which is dangerous for a Career tribute. Cockiness almost always equals some sort of slip-up for the Careers, but Tybalt isn't arrogant at all, which will only make him more harder to kill.

"Dunno," Pollish shrugs; He grips a sword in his hands, which is covered in dried blood he hasn't washed off yet. "Which way did they go?"

"That way," Lepus says. Her voice is still sweet and melodic, but the venom in it can't be missed. "I'm almost possible I saw him run into the woods with her."

James realizes the 'they' that the Careers are talking about is James and Violet.

"Who do you think he's killed so far?" Tybalt murmurs.

"I saw him kill Caesar," Olivia frowns.

James realizes that Olivia was Caesar's district partner. Why she didn't attack James at the Cornucopia, he doesn't know, but the hatred in her voice is evident enough that she wishes she did.

"How about that little girl? You think he ditched her?" Pollish asks.

"Probably not, I mean, she's still alive," Lepus replies. "You think he killed that girl from 12?"

"I don't think so," Lepus says. "You saw him getting all friendly with the boy from 12. He probably didn't kill her. Maybe that buff boy from 10. Declan, I think."

"I hate the two of them the most," Olivia says. "James and Declan. When we find 'em, let's make it slow."

"You can do the honors," smiles Lepus before turning around and shouting, "C'mon, hurry it up!"

James retracts back into the cave ever-so-slightly at the Lepus' shout, and watches as Ontario, Pollish's district partner, hobbles up to them. She's taller than the rest of them, beautiful like all of the Careers, but is holding her left leg with her hand. "Sorry," Ontario chirps. "That little bitch from 5 nicked me last night. Still hurts."

"We can tell," Lepus frowns. "Don't fall behind. Now let's go. I want to find the little girl before sunrise."

"Why the little girl?" Tybalt asks.

"Because she's his kryptonite," Lepus says, her frown reverting into a sickly grin, before moving away.

As the Careers move past, James turns to Violet and whispers, "Now can I take first watch?"

Violet just nods and moves over to a corner of the cave, curling up in a ball.

James sits against the cave entrance, and as he turns one of his hatchets around in his hand he starts calculating again.

Fourteen tributes are alive. That includes all of the Careers (minus Caesar) and James, Declan, and Oxford. If everyone makes it through the night, then that means by the third day everyone who's dedicated to living will be fighting hard to stay that way. Amelia, the tributes from 5, 8, and 9, none of them seemed like they wanted to fight to stay alive.

If they come across anyone at this point, odds are it's going to get messy.

He tries to rethink the teams by now. Obviously, the Careers are still together, and then James and Violet are still together, but he doesn't know about anyone else. Oxford seems too sadistic to be working with Michaela, who is a polar opposite of Oxford both mentally and physically. Declan and Kristina would make a good pair, but both are likely separated.

And then the only ones left besides them are Kaylana, the girl from 3, and Mick, the boy from 6, and neither of them are likely to be working together. Romeo also isn't the type to be stupid and offer random tributes his friendship. James smirks to himself as he realizes by now Romeo's probably sitting on a food stash long enough to last him throughout the whole Hunger Games. Even if that's not true, he's definitely not going to be found easily by the Careers.

James ignores the thought. Fourteen tributes left. Surely more will die when the sun rises. The Careers will make sure of that.

As the night goes on, James stops trying to do the math on who's alive and who's working together and resolves to take stock of their inventory. Violet is curled up into a ball on the ground, and her bag lays next to her. James' own bag is right next to it. James ignores Violet's drawstring bag and starts to double-check what the bag holds. One full bottle of water remains; The second one James and Violet shared when they were hiking. The two of them won't last long without water, and one bottle isn't enough.

A quick inspection of James' bag reveals a pocket that James didn't know existed. He feels excited for a moment, but his excitements fades away a bit when the pocket contains only half an apple and some aluminum foil.

In the distance, thunder booms. James realizes that it's going to rain tomorrow, if not tonight. At first, he treats this information with indifference, and then joy sparks within him. Rain means water.

James reaches into Violet's bag and pulls out the bottle that used to belong to Amelia. It's empty, just like the first bottle, but James takes Violet's knife and sets to work on cutting it. In a minute, he's cut the bottle in half. James does the same for the other bottle, and when he's done, he has two water bottles that have been cut in half.

James quickly waits for any sound outside, and when he hears none, James tenderly places both half-bottles outside. Slinking his hand back into the cave, James feels content. He learned this trick from Finnick Odair, a boy from District 4 who ended up becoming the victor of the 65th Hunger Games. James only hopes that whatever luck Finnick had, he can have some of it too. Instinctively, he thumbs the necklace. It's still on his neck, having been on snugly since the Games began.

Why he values the necklace so much, he doesn't know. He never said a word to Iris Innocens, Violet's sister, before the Reaping, and even after he barely said anything. The girl's pretty, with auburn hair and hazel eyes, just like the rest of her family, but James doesn't think that's why he values the necklace. It's a signal of luck, but that's not it, either.

Maybe it's because it's a signal of home.

Nobody else gave James a token, not his dad or Grant or Otto anyone, but Iris, the girl with the doomed sister who gave him a necklace for a reason he doesn't know.

James puts the clover to his lips and whispers, "Keep us safe," into it. "You've kept us safe so far, please keep us safe."

While James does think the necklace has given him some variant of luck so far in the Games, this is for the Capitol. Their cave probably has cameras in it. Cameras are everywhere in the Games, but where, he doesn't know. Odds are, they're being televised right now. He whispered what he just whispered so that's what the Capitol thinks: That he thinks that the necklace is just a good luck charm. Or maybe it's to hide from Iris that he values the necklace far too much.

James wonders what Iris thinks of all of this. He's wondered what dozens of people are thinking about him by now, but Iris hasn't crossed his mind until just now. Surely she wouldn't be thrilled about him killing Caesar, and would likely be indifferent about how James saved Declan's life, but she definitely saw James save Violet. Saw James fly into a rage when Scotten threatened to stab Violet, saw James butcher him before scooping Violet up in his arms and running.

He remembers what Iris asked him the day he was Reaped, when she burst into the Justice Building.

 _"You'll keep her safe, right?"_

 _"I will. I'll keep her safe as long as I can."_

 _"You will?"_

 _"I will. You have my word, Iris. I'll keep Violet safe."_

James remembers their conversation vividly, and looks over at Violet, sound asleep.

"I'll keep you safe," James whispers into the cave.

* * *

 _Chapter 7! It'll be day three of the Games soon, and ten tributes have been eliminated. I've not got much else to say left, except to flat-out tell you which tributes are alive below. I'd like to thank you for the support so far, and trust me, I love writing these! I've written fanfiction here and there on separate accounts, but writing for the Hunger Games is amazing! I've wanted to do so for quite long, and an active community combined with a great universe really helps! That's it for now, I'll see you next chapter, and remember to rate and review!_

 _Reviews:_

 _-Sparky SheDemon: Haha, it was frustrating for me to even write the part with Oxford because of James' inaction! Thanks for the review :)_

 _CURRENTLY ALIVE TRIBUTES (Day 2):_

 _-Lepus, District 1 (17 years old)_

 _-Tybalt, District 1 (18 years old)_

 _-Pollish, District 2 (17 years old)_

 _-Ontario, District 2 (17 years old_

 _-Kaylana, District 3 (15 years old)_

 _-Olivia, District 4 (16 years old)_

 _-Mick, District 6 (16 years old)_

 _-James, District 7 (17 years old)_

 _-Violet, District 7 (12 years old)_

 _-Declan, District 10 (17 years old)_

 _-Kristina, District 10 (16 years old)_

 _-Oxford, District 11 (18 years old)_

 _-Michaela, District 11 (15 years old)_

 _-Romeo, District 12 (16 years old)_

 _While I'd love to leave you in the dark as to how old the tributes are, I feel like the ages of the tributes are an important distinction that I haven't made. This also gives you a pretty clear idea of who's alive, and which districts have been wiped off the map entirely. You'll see this list shrink in various ways as the Games go on, naturally._

 _-C_


	8. Chapter Eight: Act Five, Scene Three

_"The unthankful heart discovers no mercies; but the thankful heart will find, in every hour, some heavenly blessings." -Henry Beecher_

* * *

James opens his eyes to find Violet, sitting across from him, gently nibbling on their jerky. She looks up. "Morning."

"Morning," James groans. "What time is it?"

Violet shrugs. "I dunno. Wish I had a watch. It's bright out, though." Violet nods at the opening of the cave; It's day, but the sun has yet to shine; It remains masked by clouds.

James sits up against the cave wall. Save for some aches in his legs, he feels fully rejuvenated. "How long have I been out?"

Violet's brow furrows. "Not sure. You were out when I woke up. Seven, maybe eight hours?"

 _Damn_ , James thinks to himself. _You can't fall asleep. Not with her._ James warns himself not to fall asleep on watch and gets to his feet, pacing over to the cave's entrance. He leans out, and finds the two water bottles he set out to collect water. Both are full with rainwater. James cranes his neck to look at Violet. "Yo, Vi, I got water."

Violet's eyebrows raise with surprise, and the little girl walks over beside him. "Huh. You did. Good job."

"Of course I did a good job," James says in a tone that's sarcastic at best. "I'm the best."

"Yeah, okay," Violet replies, reaching out and sipping on one of the bottles. "I could destroy you in a fight."

James puts his hands up. "Alright, alright, just don't hurt me."

Violet smirks as James pulls aside the bushes, and steps out into the forest. "Yeah, that's what I thought."

James quickly does a 360 to make sure that nobody is lurking outside the cave, and then looks around some more. The heavy rainfall from last night has lessened a bit, and now it only drizzles. Rain has soaked the earth, leaving any and all firewood unable to be salvaged, but James didn't intend to start a fire, so this has no consequences for him. The rainstorm will likely have left the remaining resourceful tributes with some water to live off of. Excluding the Careers, there are nine other tributes left, none of which are likely to be living near the large lake near the Cornucopia.

"So," Violet says, kicking a pebble, "What's the plan, boss?"

"You got your knife on you?" James replies.

"Always do," Violet replies, flashing the blade for good measure.

"Good," James responds, unhooking one of his hatchets. "We're gonna explore a bit today. Get some berries, too. Bring your bag."

"Sounds good, but I don't wanna get lost," Violet replies, turning and entering the cave. Once inside, she calls out, "Want yours?"

"No," James replies. "Give me your granola bar, though. I'm hungry as hell."

Once Violet returns with her drawstring bag and hands him the granola bar, it's only then when James realizes how hungry it is. The adrenaline and will to push on have kept his mind away from his stomach for a few days, but once James takes his first bite into the bar he downs it in fifteen seconds. It feels good, but it's not enough, so Violet hands him some blueberries, which James happily munches down on. It's quelled some of his hunger, but not enough.

"Good enough, chief?" Violet asks with a small smile.

"Nope," James smiles back. The nation is watching, if James relays his need for something it's likely that they'll get it. The two are stars in the Capitol, and James hopes he's proven himself to the potential sponsors by ending two lives. James takes a deep breath, and calls out, "Yo! Blight! I'd really appreciate it if you could get us some food!" Not quiet enough to be inaudible, but not too loud enough to alert anyone nearby.

"Give us our favorite foods," Violet chimes in.

"Yeah, what she said," James says. "While I'd love a chicken dinner, some bread would do just fine."

Violet snorts. "Bread's your favorite food? Mine's chocolate."

"Chocolate's bad for your teeth," James points out.

"And?" Violet replies. "Bread isn't much better."

"My favorite food isn't bread. It's chicken, just...bread would be nice."

"Chocolate would be nicer," Violet frowns.

"A five-course meal would be nicer," James says.

"A king-size bar of chocolate is infinitely better than a dumb meal."

"No, it's not," James protests.

"Uh, yeah, it is," Violet says, bending down and picking some strawberries; By now, they've traveled a fair distance away from their cave. "Blight, get me chocolate." She says this to the cameras, invisible but watching them.

"Blight, get me chicken," James says, crossing his arms.

"He's gonna give me chocolate first," Violet argues.

"Sure he will," James says.

The rest of the morning is spent in relative silence, with the two of them picking berries. By the time two hours pass, they've collected a good score of nuts and berries, from blueberries to strawberries to even a few raspberries. When they return to the cave, Violet is pleased, but James can't help but feel a bit worried. They've got four pieces of beef jerky and a ton of berries. While James knows only to eat enough to sustain himself, if both he and Violet are to keep their strength up the stash won't last a week.

The thought of James stealing from the Careers pops up briefly in his head, but he knows that would only end poorly for him. There have been attempts, over the years, to steal the Careers' supplies; Some have succeeded, but most have failed. In the first Hunger Games James can ever remember watching, the boy from District 7, a boy named Ace, built molotov cocktails and burnt half the Careers to death along with all of their supplies before retreating, all in revenge of his district partner, who was part of the initial massacre. As a result, all of the Careers, who barely had any survival skills, starved to death or were killed when they were too weak from hunger by Ace himself. He ended up winning the Hunger Games that year, and District 7 was one of the most memorable districts that year in ten years. James wonders for a moment if James could do what Ace did, and forces the thought out of his mind. Too dangerous.

As the day goes on and the two remain safely inside the cave, James realizes with dread that it's the third day of the Games. He's outlived Justinian.

While this has been true for almost forty-eight hours now, James still finds it a bit...stunning. He was so distracted by trying to survive that he forgot about his brother, who froze to death last year. James remembers the time exactly: He died of hypothermia on 10:58 PM, on the first day of the 67th Annual Hunger Games. It's been exactly a year and two days since Justinian succumbed to the clutches of the Capitol. James remembers their last conversation, in the Justice Building.

He wonders about his family. Ever since the Games have started, he's wondered what his family thought of him, or how they were feeling, but now he's wondering if they've received any compensation since his Reaping. Ven has most definitely brought the Henderson family a little extra meat, and odds are Grant showed up to his house with an unhealthy amount of moonshine. James wonders about the district. Has James' father received any extra money? He's been friends with the mayor since childhood, but even then he wonders. When Justinian died, their family obviously received some money as a result, but what if two family members are Reaped two years in a row? That happened a few years ago, two tributes named Gloss and Cashmere, but both were Careers. They volunteered. James hopes that his father gets some extra money from the District. He deserves it.

James decides not to think about it for now. He's been thinking too much. He has to focus on what he's doing now.

James steps out quickly to stretch his legs and pee and then drag over more cover for the cave, and is about to retreat back inside their little home when he hears them.

One cannon, followed a few seconds later by another.

James quickly heads back into the cave, and sits by its entrance, his hatchets at the ready, Violet hiding in the corner with her knife drawn.

* * *

 _James burst through the door of the Justice Building. Well, burst was pushing it; James punched open the door, and hobbled through on his crutches. The Peacekeeper in charge of guarding the door, a man named Adem, just quietly steps aside with sad eyes. James knows Adem from his visits to the Epoch, but he's otherwise a stranger._

 _James gets to the couch on his crutches, and then collapses, giving Justinian a hug. His brother, who's already weeping softly, returns it. "I'm afraid, James."_

 _"Me too," James admits._

 _They sit like that for a few minutes, just him and Justinian together. Another Peacekeeper comes to collect James but Adem stops him. "Give him a few minutes, alright? It's his brother."_

 _The other Peacekeeper frowns, but relents and wanders away._

 _James releases from the hug, and wipes his eyes. Justinian wipes his, too. James just says, "You can do this."_

 _"I can't," Justinian says back. "I can't kill people for no reason."_

 _"You don't have to," James says back. "You just have to hide and survive until you're the last one left."_

 _"But I'll have to kill for that to happen," Justinian sniffles. "James, I...I don't want to."_

 _"You're good at surviving," James says. "You've passed every single nature survival course in school with A's. Do you remember the boy scouts?"_

 _"I was a boy scout three years ago," Justinian says softly. "James, I'm done for."_

 _"No, you're not," James says. "You're...you're only done for if you accept that you're going to die. I've seen you. You can skin a squirrel in thirty seconds."_

 _"But I can't fight at all," Justinian says. "I've been a runner all my life. I can't fight. I'll be killed."_

 _"You at least have to try," James says back_

 _"Try what?"_

 _James stands up. "Try to survive."_

 _Justinian nods, his eyes stained with tears. "Alright. I'll try. I will."_

 _"You promise?" James asks._

 _"I promise," Justinian nods._

 _James only nods back, says, "Good," and walks out the door, letting Adem know that he can escort in the next visitor._

* * *

James leans his head out of the cave as the national anthem of Panem ends. It's dark out, chilly, and no other cannons have sounded today. Just the two, around noon. James nervously looks into the sky, hesitating at first. Violet sits in the back of the cave, unwilling to look at the dead tributes themselves.

The first image flashes in the sky.

Ontario. District 4.

Relief floods James. Another Career dead. He wonders who killed her as the girl's face flashes in the sky. She's a tall girl, but she has a fire in those blue eyes of hers. Had, at least. James remembers her limping along with the Careers, having claimed the life of a girl from District 5 who surely begged for her life before dying. It's good that she died before James had to fight her. His relief, though, quickly turns to a mix of horror and sadness when the next tribute flashes in the night sky.

Romeo. District 12.

James feels his jaw drop, and sadness overtake him. James slinks back into the cave, slumping against a wall, sitting there, stunned. Romeo's dead. _Dead_. His friend, the only other true friendship besides Violet and Declan he's made with the other tributes, is dead. James told himself this was going to happen, but nothing can prepare him for the actual news. He can't look at Romeo's picture in the sky. With a square jaw, perfect hair and a small smirk, Romeo's image hides the fact that he's never had a decent meal in his whole life.

It's not fair. _Not fair. Not fucking fair._ Not fair that Romeo died. He should get to live. He should get to win and come home to a feast that will finally fill his stomach.

"Who...who was it?" Violet asks.

James slowly looks over at the girl. The sentence has very little confidence in it. Judging by James' face, she knows that one of their alliance has died. He opens his mouth, and his reply comes out weary and filled with sadness. "Ontario, the girl from 4, and Romeo."

Violet's eyes light up for a second when James tells Violet that Ontario's dead, and then widen with horror when he relays the news of Romeo's death. After a moment of silence, Violet asks, "Romeo's...dead?"

James sighs, letting his gaze fall to the cave floor. "Yeah, Vi. Romeo's...he's gone. Romeo's dead."

James expects Violet to say something, but she only shimmies over to him and buries her head in her lap, breaking out into tears. James stops for a moment, sets aside his weapons, readjusts his position in the cave, and puts a hand on Violet's shoulder. The little girl has lost the composure she was trying to keep, and now the tears fall freely. Two allies dead. Amelia and Romeo. Both from District 12. The coal-mining district of Panem now has no living tributes in the 68th Hunger Games. Sadness fills him, and James is now doing his best not to weep for Romeo. Brave, smart, cunning Romeo, who most definitely went down fighting.

Violet sniffs after she cries for almost ten full minutes. "Do you...do you think Romeo killed that other girl?" The question comes out muffled; Her face is still buried in James' lap, his pants stained with her tears.

"Ontario?" James asks. "I think so. Romeo's a fighter. He wouldn't go down easily."

"They're all fighters," Violet sobs.

"Yeah, but Romeo's brave. He probably sacrificed himself to save another tribute. Maybe Mick, or Kaylana, or even Declan."

There's a long pause before Violet says, "James, I wanna go home."

"I know, Vi," James croaks. "I do, too. I miss my own bed. My dad's signature soup. I miss all of it." James pauses. "But only one of us can go home. You know that. So I'm gonna do everything I can to get you home. You got me?"

James feels Violet nod, and puts his hand on her back. "Good," he says.

They don't talk for the rest of the night, and hours later, Violet finally dozes off. James doesn't though. He sits, facing the exit to the cave, his hatchet beside him, for hours. His eyelids don't feel heavy, he doesn't feel tired, either. James feels frozen in time. Something in the back of his brain tells James that he's in shock.

By now, James would be trying to figure out how many people are alive and how they might be doing in the game. Not tonight, though. James just sits in the dark, his mind blank, looking at the cave's entrance.

"I'm sorry, District 12," James whispers into the cave. "I'm so sorry."

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

James is still awake when Violet opens her eyes, and looks up at him. "Good morning, Vi," James says.

Violet sniffles. "Good morning." Her voice cracks, but she isn't choked by tears anymore. "Did you sleep?"

James shakes his head. "Couldn't. How'd you sleep?"

"Bad," Violet frowns. She heaves herself off of James, and for a moment, James misses her presence, the bundle of warmth curled up against his side, and then tells himself that if they just sit there all day, they'll die.

They quietly munch on their berries and finish off the rest of their beef jerky as the sun rises. Neither speaks until they're done, when Violet asks, just like always, "What now?"

"Food," James sullenly replies. "We need food. No more jerky. Barely any berries. Let's go get some food."

Violet nods, and James puts on his pack and pulls out one of his hatchets. "Let's, erm...let's try to remember Romeo. For what he did. For who he was."

Violet nods again. "He was our friend. He should be remembered."

"He will be," James says firmly. "He will be."

They make their way over to the cave's entrance when James finds the silver parachute sitting politely on the branches and almost drops the hatchet. James picks it up: Attached to the silver parachute is a very small, rectangular case. He looks over at Violet, whose eyes are wide. "Open it," she says.

James complies, popping open the case, and pulls out a delicately-wrapped candy bar. Written in bold across the wrapper is 'CHOCOLATE' in big letters. Violet smiles as James hands her the candy bar. It's a somber smile, but still a smile. Enough to melt away some of the sorrow from Romeo's death. James pushes aside the bushes, and murmurs, "Thanks, Blight," to nothing in particular. He knows Blight will receive the message.

As James kicks aside the last shrub, he knows he should probably thank the Capitol. After all, it was their citizens, not Blight, who sent them the chocolate bar. Then again, it was the Capitol, not Blight, who sent him here, so James is going to thank Blight and only Blight.

After a quick sweep of their area, James decides to head east. The Cornucopia, and the Careers, lie to the north, and James suspects that the Careers will be extra violent after the death of one of their own. James walks slowly with Violet, constantly scanning the horizon, for the first hour, until they come to a part of the forest filled to the brim with berries and nuts. Bushes of every which berry imaginable dot the trees, and James can't help but feel a bit happy at their unexpected luck.

After filling various pockets and pouches with their berries, Violet turns to James and asks, "Let's split up."

James frowns. "No. It's not safe." The trees tower above them, and some of the bushes are large. It would be easy to get lost.

Violet groans, the sad little girl fading away more and more. "C'mon, James. We'll be fine."

"No, we won't," James says. "Not if we split up. It's not safe. The Careers could be out hunting."

Violet grumbles, and together they keep searching. James only picks the four berries he knows for sure are safe: Blueberries, blackberries, strawberries, and raspberries. All of the other ones he leaves alone; He has no idea which ones are safe to eat and which ones could leave him dead on the ground. A tribute one year, a girl, carried a bunch of poison berries in her pouch. When she was killed, the Career who killed her shrugged as she cackled with her dying breath. He started to eat her stash of berries, and within five minutes, the dead girl got her revenge when the boy collapsed into a heap.

James' smaller pouches are almost full, so James pops a few berries into his mouth as he goes. Violet, however, is scooping up berries like crazy, and before long, their searches are intermingling with each other. James recognizes that there must be hundreds of berries in the vicinity, and sees some reason in what Violet asks. If they split up, they can get more berries, more nuts, more food. So reluctantly, James says, "Alright, we can split up. But we need a code. And you can't be more than a hundred feet away from me."

"Alright, what's the code?" Violet asks, trying to look bored but unable to conceal her excitement. For the better part of the Games, she's been by James' side, so James figures she must be aching to get some time alone.

James pauses, and remembers a code Justinian used to make up to clap when dinner was ready back in District 7. Two sharp claps. That was their code. James orders her to do it again and again, and then makes her promise to clap every few minutes or so. Violet does so with a roll of the eyes, and then James says, "Stay safe, Vi," and remains, picking off the last remains of a strawberry plant. James squats, a mixture of nuts and berries his lunch for the day. It's warm out, hotter than the day before, and James suspects that they're increasing the temperature slightly during the day and then making it colder at night.

 _So we can light fires_ , James surmises. A clever ploy by the Gamemakers, but not one he'll fall for. He'd rather rough it out than risk being spotted by the Careers.

He hears two claps from Violet, and then claps twice back. Wandering through hedges and pushes, James picks up berries as he goes, munching on them here and there. On one occasion, he bites a foreign berry, and freezes with terror that quickly dissipates when the berry goes down with no consequences. The Gamemakers have been nice, too nice, to them with these berries. Odds are a good portion of them have bad effects. James reminds himself to stick with the berries he knows.

He must, or else he might die. He claps twice, and further out, hears two claps.

James starts to make his way back to Violet, slowly. The girl must have a good stash. James creates a small container out of one of the water bottles he cut in half to gather rainwater; If he puts aluminum foil over the top, it acts as a combination of both a can and a pouch. James collects more berries to stash in here, and starts adding nuts to the collection. By now, he surmises he's collected at least fifty or so berries and nuts. This will be enough to last them, especially if they manage to find more food. Maybe even a squirrel or a rabbit. A deer if they're super lucky. James isn't too keen on throwing a hatchet into a deer's side only for it to run away, though, so he hopes that his admirers send him a bow, or maybe just a longer sword.

James claps, and hears the claps twice. And then a shrill, horrified scream pierces the air. "James! Help!"

" _Violet!_ " James shouts into the wilderness, pushing past shrubs and sticks towards the voice, barreling toward Violet's plea at full speed. He hears laughter now, closer. It's the Careers. The Careers have found her. He can feel his hands start to shake, and his throat gets tight. James' heart pounds in his chest faster than it's ever as he pushes past a shrub as tall as him and breaks into a clear opening.

The first thing James sees is the Careers. Three of them: Lepus, Tybalt, and Olivia.

And then he sees Violet, on the forest floor, covered in her own blood.

And the third thing James sees is Lepus, with that sickly smile of hers, plunge a curved dagger into Violet's stomach.


	9. Chapter Nine: I'm So, So Sorry

_Death leaves a heartache no one can heal, love leaves a memory no one can steal." -An Irish tombstone_

* * *

 **A/N: This chapter will be very, very short, only 1,500 words or so.**

* * *

" _No_!" James roars. " _You fucking monsters_!"

Before any of the Careers can even react, James lifts his hand back and throws his hatchet as hard as he can at Tybalt. He hatchet finds its home in the muscular boy's chest, and he falls backward noiselessly but alive. Olivia immediately gets up and dashes away.

James looks at Lepus, staring at James with wide, horrified eyes as she realizes what she's just done. " _You_!" he screams, shaking the trees. He whips a second hatchet, and it nicks her ear, but otherwise doesn't harm her.

James breaks into a full sprint, and Lepus just stands up, shaking like a leaf, gripping her knife. A scared girl, a scared murderer. James has no hatchets, but he scoops up Violet's knife and within seconds, James swings the blade as hard as he can. It hits her leg, and blood immediately spurts out of the wound. Lepus cries out in pain, collapsing. James is about to cut Lepus to shreds when Tybalt grunts, struggling to get on his feet.

James punches Lepus in the nose and shoves her backward before tackling Tybalt. He hears her scurry away, but the anger and horror coursing through his system is too powerful for him to try to pursuit. Instead he plunges the knife deep into Tybalt's stomach. The muscular boy from District 1 coughs up blood, and then looks at James with eyes filled with hate.

James pulls the hatchet out of Tybalt's chest and brings it down with all his strength on the boy's head. He hears a cannon, somewhere, and ignores it. He brings down the hatchet on Tybalt's head again.

 _"Ladies first...Violet Innocens! Let's hear a round of applause for little Violet!"_

And again.

 _"So you think I won't lose?"_

 _James shrugs. "I think District 7 is going to win this year."_

And again.

 _"Join us if you want to live," says the boy from District 4._

 _James looks at Violet, and then back at the Careers. "Don't mess with the little girl if you want to live."_

And again.

 _"Because of Violet," James says. "I'm gonna at least make an attempt to save her. I can't appear ferocious with a little girl by my side. And not sticking with her is off the table."_

And again.

 _"I'll keep you safe," James whispers, Violet sleeping only inches away from him._

And again, and then he hears a second cannon. Before he can look over at Violet, he hears the twig snap and James snaps his head up from Tybalt's mangled corpse to find Declan, staring at him with wild, fearful eyes, a bow aimed at his head. Declan. Strong, charming Declan, who's dirty and is covered with cuts and scrapes but lowers his bow, is standing before him. Alive.

"I heard the screams and I thought it was you," Declan says. "I figured I should...oh...oh no."

James follows Declan's gaze to Violet, and he realizes he's forgotten about the little girl entirely. Throwing his bloody hatchet to the side, James scurries over on his knees to Violet, who lays a few feet away. Two knives lay stabbed into her: One in her leg and one in her stomach. The little girl's crying, crying hard, and she's bleeding fast.

"Violet!" James cries out, cradling in her in his arms. He feels tears threaten to spill, but this time he lets them fall. There's no acting like a man today. He'll let the tears come. "Violet, can you hear me?"

Violet nods slowly. "It hurts James," she croaks. "It hurts really bad."

"I know, Violet, I know," James sobs. Her injuries are far too severe for James or Declan to attempt to treat; Ignoring reason, he tries to pick her up, carry her to the cave, but the scream she lets out is so horrid James puts her down immediately, cradling her in his arms.

"Please, Violet, just...please don't die," he says, and now tears are spilling down his cheeks quickly. "Please don't. You need to live. You need to go back to District 7, with Iris and your friends and your cat and everyone who loves you." He heaves. " _Please_ , Violet."

Violet stops her quiet crying for a moment just to gasp out, "James, I don't wanna die."

"Don't," James begs. "Don't. You need to grow up. Please, Violet, please. You need to grow up and have a family and die eighty years from now in a nice, warm bed surrounded by your family. Please don't die here. You can't."

"James," Violet says, her voice weaker. James knows she doesn't have much time left, and the tears won't stop coming. "James, it hurts so much."

James has given up any logic, sobbing loudly as Violet's grip on his forearm grows weaker and weaker. He puts his head closer to hers. "Don't go, Violet. Don't go."

Violet's clutch grows even weaker, and James knows that she doesn't have long. A minute, maybe two. He leans in close. "I'm going to make sure your family's okay, Violet." He's choking up again, crying uncontrollably as he says, "Violet, all of them are going to live nice and happy lives until the day they die. I promise you. I promise you."

Violet smiles weakly. "I'd...I'd like that." Her voice is sapped, but she manages to say, "I'll miss you, James."

James feels more tears form and then start to fall, and it takes everything he says to choke out, "I'll miss you too, Violet."

They refrain from speaking now, both tributes from District 7 crying their eyes out. James holds the little girl he vowed to protect, whispering that it'll be okay and the pain won't last. Violet closes her eyes, smiling sadly as James whispers to her that it won't be long and she'll be home soon. No more Hunger Games. No more Careers. No more pain.

The cannon sounds, and Violet Innocens, the twelve-year-old girl from District 7, is gone, gone from this earth. James, her protector since he laid eyes on her, cries hardly and quietly to himself, holding Violet in his arms, before opening his eyes and looking at her. She's peaceful. Eyes closed. A small, faint smile on her lips. James tugs a strand of hair behind her ear.

"You're okay," James whispers. "You're okay."

James hears the hovercraft now, and looks up at Declan. The boy looks solemnly at Violet, tears in his eyes, before locking eyes with James. Declan just asks with a heavy voice, "Now...now what?"

"I don't know anymore," James says, looking over at Tybalt; The boy's face has been hacked to mush, and if not for his build James wouldn't even know who he was.

Slowly, painfully, but slowly, James leaves Violet's body and cuts Tybalt's pack free from his body. He looks up at Declan. "Where are the others?"

"Olivia's dead," Declan says somberly. "I shot her through the throat. Don't know about Lepus and Pollish."

"Go take Olivia's stuff," James says. "The hovercraft will be here soon."

Declan nods, and paces away, leaving James in silence with two corpses. Two people that he killed. Blood splatters the ground, and James sits back, his elbows resting on his knees, sobbing quietly to himself. "I'm sorry," James whispers. "Violet, I'm so, so sorry. I tried. You deserved better."

The hovercraft's metal teeth take Tybalt first, mangled and unrecognizable. He has a family back home who will have to bury him like that.

And then the hovercraft takes Violet. Peaceful, innocent little Violet, with two knives in her system. James doesn't bother to take them. As the hovercraft lifts up Violet, the only girl who he's really cared about, his hand feels its grip on the necklace.

James remembers the promise he made to Iris, Violet's sister, and a fresh wave of tears come.


	10. Chapter Ten: Recovery

_"It takes ten times as long to pull yourself together as it does to fall apart." -Finnick Odair_

* * *

When the hovercraft's gone, with it the bodies of three tributes, Declan sits next to James, gripped in his hands the backpacks of Tybalt and Olivia; James didn't touch Violet's bag. Together the two sit for a long time, James quietly crying to himself, Declan with an arm around James' shoulder. Their weapons lay on the ground in front of them.

Two Careers have been felled today, and the other seriously wounded. They won't be fighting today, so why have their weapons on them?

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, James wipes his eyes and says, "We...we need to go."

Declan looks over at him. After a pause, he asks, "Are you sure? We can...sit here awhile longer if you want."

James shakes his head. "No...No. We should get moving. It'll be dark soon. Let's go."

Declan nods somberly, and lets his arm fall from James' shoulder. "Alright. Let's get a move on."

James takes Tybalt's bag, a small combat backpack, and Declan picks up Olivia's bag, a small canvas hunting pack, and together they start moving away from where three tributes died, the only signs of them ever being here the trampled grass and the bloodstains.

"Where are we going?" Declan asks once they break free from the bush-ridden part of the forest and enter a clearer part.

"Where have you been living?" James asks.

"Nowhere," Declan says as they push on. "Trees, mostly. Where have you?"

"Me and Violet found a cave on the second day," James replies. For a split second, he looks around, waiting for Violet to reaffirm this with a snarky comment, but none comes, and James' brain reminds him that Violet's dead. He chokes back tears. "It's about an hour's walk west from here."

"Sounds like home to me," Declan says.

They walk in silence for the better part of the journey, the two boys grunting as they march, crunching over twigs and leaves. James has one of his hatchets out, the other one snugly tucked into his belt; Declan has a long machete, he think it's called a kukri, in his hands, and his bow remains strapped to his backpack. The hatchet in James' hand is coated in blood and bits of bone from when he hacked Tybalt to death, which just upsets James because it reminds him of how much of a failure he was.

They're nearing the last five minutes of the journey when Declan says aloud, "I wanted to be a beekeeper."

The statement is so strange, so out-of-place, James almost stops in his tracks. "What?" he asks.

"A beekeeper," Declan repeats. "You know, someone who keeps bees."

James rolls his eyes. "I know what a beekeeper is, Declan."

"Just in case," Declan says. "Anyway, I was just about ready to be a beekeeper. Had my own little hive in our backyard. Even spent half my earnings at the goat farm I worked at to buy a beekeeper's suit." Declan kicks a rock. "Those damn bees stung me all the time."

James smiles. It's not a laugh, but it's a smile. "I hate bees."

The smile fades only a second later, but it's something and James feels a small warmth fighting back against the depression he's felt himself start to fall into. The shock from seeing his district partner killed is starting to fade off, replaced with a deep sadness starting to root within himself. James doesn't say anything to Declan about this though. He can't have his friend, his only friend in the arena so far, worrying about him, but James is sure Declan already has reserved worry.

James finds the cave, and pushes aside the branches, leading Declan inside. Once inside, James doesn't pull over the bushes and fallen tree to conceal themselves. With Violet gone, he has no real incentive to be careful.

If the Careers want to go looking for a fight, they'll get one.

They set down four backpacks in the cave: James' bag, Declan's bag, and the packs of both Careers killed earlier in the day. Declan has a meager supply of dried pork and some water, and James has an unhealthy amount of berries and some water, but the Careers' backpacks hold the silver lining in the mournful day.

Olivia has very little food in her backpack. This is typical of a Career, who often carries little food on them because they have so much at the Cornucopia. A small pack of saltines and half a bottle of water is all the food Olivia's bag holds. On the bright side, Olivia seems to have been the doctor of the Careers, and has several first-aid kits filled with gauze, hydrogen peroxide, and sewing kits with needles and thread attached to them. If either of them is hurt in a fight, odds are they can be healed if it's not too serious.

Tybalt, however, does not share the same arrogance as Olivia. The boy from District 1 has a huge amount of food, from crackers and jerky to cans of fruit and meat. Inside his pack is a small deck of playing cards. As James sorts through the cards, which are pristine for the most part, he finds one lone card, with a huge 'X' scribbled in pen.

The ace of spades is crossed out.

James would smirk if he could, but instead he just exhales through his nose in a huff and sets aside the pack.

"Alright, so," Declan starts, "We have, as follows: Four packages of dried beef and pork, two packages of saltines, three fully-stocked first-aid kits, one pack of matzo crackers, two cans of peaches, one can of tuna fish, and two cans of chicken noodle soup. Not counting the water, weapons, and the deck of playing cards. Or your berries."

"Good haul," James muses to himself.

"Good haul indeed," agrees Declan, right as the national anthem of Panem starts to boom across the arena. "We can probably sit tight for a few days, try to recover from, uh...from what happened today. Then we can go out and try to get some food after."

James nods. "That sounds like a good plan."

Together, the two of them sit near the entrance to the cave, and watch as the anthem ends, and the dead tributes flash up on the sky.

Tybalt. District 1.

Olivia. District 4.

Violet. District 7.

James can feel tears brimming when Violet's innocent face flashes up on the screen. He's failed her. He's failed Iris. He's failed himself. Declan reaches out and gives him a pat on his shoulder. "It's not your fault, James." Declan's thick Cajun accent helps to soothe James a bit, but not much. They sit in silence after Violet's picture disappears from the sky for a few minutes.

"Nine of us are left," Declan says, breaking the silence. "Nine."

"We've almost made it into the top eight," James says. Normally this would be good news, but James doesn't care. Violet isn't here with him.

"Almost," Declan sighs, sitting up in the cave. "Kristina's still out there. I wonder if she's okay."

James is conflicted on what to say next. On the one hand, he wants to tell him to shut up because his district partner died just an hour ago, but the other part of him wants to reassure him that Kristina is probably okay. Eventually, the latter side of him wins, and he tells Declan that Kristina is probably doing alright for herself. She's not dumb.

"I hope she lives a bit longer," Declan says. After a pause, he mutters, "Both our friends from District 12 are dead."

"It's my fault Amelia died," James replies, remembering that first night in the arena, hiding in the tree with Violet. "I was hiding in a tree, with Violet, on the first night when Oxford chased her into the tree. He laughed in her face and then killed her."

Declan raises his eyebrows, and then he furrows them and frowns. "Romeo's dead, too. My fault."

"It's not," James says. "It's nobody's fault." _Except the Capitol's._

"It is," Declan says, his voice full of sorrow. "That girl from 2, Ontario I think, was guarding the supplies. My dumb ass thought I could take her. I couldn't." Declan rolls up his sleeve to show his bicep, covered in a bandage. "I passed by Romeo, he was in a tree I think, and he started throwing rocks at her. It...it stopped her long enough to let me get away."

"That's how he died?" James asks.

Declan nods. "Yeah. I should've helped. I could've saved him."

"He could've let you die, but didn't," James says. "It would've been a waste if you went back and Ontario hurt you fatally. Romeo was from 12, and I didn't think he had any resemblance of courage at first." James thinks of what to say next. The people in District 12 are certainly watching him. "During training, though, turns out he did have some gall to him. I figured he died fighting, but didn't know he saved you."

"He did," Declan says. "He saved me and I would've died if he hadn't. Romeo was a hero and he deserved so much better."

"Then let's win it," James responds. "For him. For Amelia. For Violet. And let's donate part of our earnings to their families."

"It's a deal," Declan says. After a moment, he says, "You should sleep."

"I can take first watch," James dryly insists.

"Yeah, but you won't," Declan says. "You just lost your best friend today. You need some rest."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive," Declan replies. "Now go sleep."

James nods, slinking back to the corner of the cave and snuggling into a corner. His windbreaker as his blanket, James feels quite snug in the cave, and for a few minutes his brain allows him not to blame himself for Violet's death. For a few minutes only.

James fades into the welcoming grasp of sleep with Iris' necklace clutched in his palm.

 **.**

 **.**

That night, James has a pleasant dream. Instead of dreaming about Violet, though, James dreams about the first time he met Grant.

James was in the fifth grade, in his third year of football, and he'd been forced to run almost eight miles without stopping, in full football gear. Almost a quarter of the team dropped out due to exhaustion or due to heat stroke. By the end, James was drenched in sweat, his breathing was ragged, and his skin had turned a shade red.

Grant, who'd also made it through the grueling afternoon, was vaguely aware of James. The same was true for James himself; He vaguely knew of Grant Vocatus, left guard for the District 7 Paladins, but hadn't said much to him other than a greeting in the hallway.

James was entering the locker room when he saw Grant, standing outside the locker room, already dressed in his school clothes, a duffel bag by his side. James shrugged as Grant started talking to Edsel Coy, their wide receiver, and entered the locker room. After changing, he'd forgotten about Grant and opened up the locker room door only for Grant to collapse backwards into the locker room.

Grant had been leaning against the door, so when James pulled it open, he fell backwards.

Grant crashed to the ground, quickly getting to his feet. His face was laced with confusion and a tinge of annoyance, and then he locked eyes with James. The two didn't say anything for a second, before they burst out laughing.

From that moment on, James Henderson and Grant Vocatus were inseparable.

 **.**

 **.**

For the entire day, James sits in the cave.

Not moving.

Not speaking.

Barely blinking.

Barely breathing.

Declan sits, across from the cave, his bow against the wall and his kukri in his sheath. James notices when he wakes up that his weapons were moved away from him. Two hatchets. Violet's knife. Well, one of the hatchets was actually Caesar's.

 _He won't be needing it anymore,_ James thinks. _Because you killed him. You monster._

When James notices the relocation of his weapons, he chuckles a cold, cruel chuckle to himself. "Think I'm gonna off myself?"

"I'm just making sure," Declan says quietly.

"You could kill me," James says. "Kill me right here." That's no way for a tribute to be talking. Such words would jeopardize his chances of a sponsor, but he doesn't care.

Declan shakes his head. "But I won't do that. By the end of next week, you or me or both of us will be gone. If I have to kill you, I'm not going to do it here."

"Might as well," _James_ grumbles. "Get it over with."

Declan shakes his head again. "I won't."

And they don't speak for the rest of the day.

By day's end, nobody has died. Declan, munching on a can of peaches, motions for James to eat, and judging by the look on his face when James reaches over and opens a can of chicken noodle soup, he's nothing short of surprised. The soup feels cold in James' mouth. Two murderers eating the food of two murderers. The irony of it all amuses James, even if just a bit.

After the anthem plays, Declan drags over the bush and fallen tree this time, shrouding them in safety. All he says is, "sleep," and that's all James needs.

Just like last night, he clutches the necklace in his hand. He whispers apologies to the necklace, to Iris, until he falls into a dreamless sleep.

When he awakes, he feels better. His body is still slow, sluggish from Violet's death, but the horrific depression he was locked in yesterday. He remembers his mother, bedridden, barely responding to anything before finally killing himself. Once the image of his mother's grave pops into his head, James forces himself to eat a pack of matzo crackers, washing it down with water. Declan notices this, and smiles a small smile to himself.

"Let's...let's go out," James suggests. "Stretch our legs. Kill a rabbit or...or something." His voice is heavy, but he's speaking.

Declan nods, and kicks over his weapons. "Good idea. Crowd's gonna be gettin' bored anyway."

Together, the two of them push aside their cover, and step out into the morning. James doesn't know what day it is. Six? Seven? ignores it. Nine of them remain. Lepus, Pollish, Kaylana, Mick, James, Declan, Kristina, and Oxford and Michaela.

They venture further out from their shelter, a mile maybe, towards the Cornucopia, and then Declan suggests lighting a fire.

"A fire?" James asks. "Why?"

"I've been thinking," Declan starts. "We're six days in, and nine of us remain. The way I see it, the nine survivors probably have some sort of food stash going on, so the only thing that can kill them is either mutts or tributes, not like, natural causes. Right?"

"Right," James says.

"So if we light a big-ass bonfire," Declan says, a glint in his eye, "Then they'll come right for us."

James hesitates. "What if the Careers come?"

Declan shrugs. "So what? Pollish is the only real threat. You cut Lepus real bad. She could be dying right now. Everyone else is scattered."

"Oxford and Michaela?"

"Oxford is jacked," Declan replies. "You don't think Michaela will actually trust him?"

"I dunno," James responds. "Maybe. I'd stay with him until the numbers were looking slim, then I'd leave."

"Well the numbers _are_ looking slim," Declan says. "One more dies, they'll start interviewing our families. I'd run away with Oxford if I had to."

James considers this a moment. Oxford's strong, and Michaela isn't weak, either, but with their weapons, at least one of them would be dead before they even got close. He looks at Declan. "How many arrows do you have?"

"Five," Declan replies, the quiver hanging behind his waist. "I can shoot straight. Shot Olivia in the neck when she was running." His face winces with guilt for a moment. "I could probably hit at least one of 'em."

"Then let's build a fire," James says. Declan grins, and they set to work.

They sit in a fairly flat area of the woods, with very few shrubs and only a few small trees. Tall oaks, dozens of feet high, tower around them, and are unable to be cut quickly with just a hatchet, so James tosses Declan one of his hatchets and they set to work cutting the smaller trees.

It's grueling work, and after only a few minutes his biceps begin to ache. James tells himself to man up and keeps hacking at the tree.

Within the hour, they have an impressive stash collected, and pile it up. Declan looks at the pile. "Do we have matches?"

James curses to himself and then says, "No. You know how to start a fire?"

"Nope," Declan replies. "You?"

James snorts. "Absolutely not."

Declan's brow furrows before his eyes light up. The boy digs into his pocket and retrieves a firestriker. "Oh! I found this back at the cave. Figured it was yours."

James eyes the firestriker for a moment. It was in Amelia's pack, and Violet tossed it to the cave floor when they first arrived. He decides to ignore the history of the object and just says, "Oh, yeah, that's mine. Came in my pack." A lie, but better than explaining that he looted it from a dead girl.

Declan crouches down to light the fire, and then he pauses. "Do you hear that?"

"Hear what?" James asks, and then he hears what Declan's referring to.

Scurrying. It sounds like something, a dog maybe, scurrying through the grass. Multiple dogs, based on the amount of noise it's generating. Declan stands up, and retrieves his bow, notching an arrow. "It's loud." He tosses James' hatchet to him. James catches it, and pulls out his second hatchet.

He's right. It's getting closer. Louder. James feels his grip on the hatchets tighten. "What the hell is it?"

"I dunno, but it's coming right at us," Declan says, pulling the arrow all the way back. "Be ready."

And then James sees it, and his heart plummets.

Bugs, huge bugs the size of dogs, are scurrying towards them. Beetles and cockroaches and spiders. Travelling right at them, clearly intending to attack.

James feels his throat tighten.

The Gamemakers have released their first mutts.

* * *

 _Hey! I'm still alive! This chapter's a bit short, too, but Chapter 11 will be much longer and odds are it'll involve most of James' time in the arena. I already have the ending fully plotted out, so all I need to do is write it out. I omitted lengthy author notes in chapters eight and nine to elicit some form of shock factor. Why kill a little girl and then have the author talking about it right after?_

 _Anyway, this chapter is sort of focused on how James recovers. Obviously, he'll still be scarred, like all of the victors, but he'll try to pull it together during the rest of the Games. The first mutts, giant bugs, have been released, too. When I first wrote this story, I wanted there to be some form of giant bugs attacking them. Why, I don't know; I think I watched a movie where they fought giant bugs recently and that inspired me. Anyway, that's that, and I'll see you all next chapter!_

 _-C_


	11. Chapter Eleven: Marching On

_"Fear cuts deeper than swords." George R.R. Martin_

* * *

"What do we do?" Declan asks, aiming his bow at one of the incoming bugs, a nasty tarantula scurrying towards him. "Run?"

"No!" James replies. "They're everywhere! We have to just...stand and fight!"

"Good thinking!" Declan shouts, and releases the arrow into the tarantula, downing it immediately.

"Stay close!" James shouts, kicking aside a large cockroach and bringing the hatchet down on a beetle. The crunch it makes causes James to shudder, but he quickly lifts one of his hatchets to hack into a spider that's jumped from a tree. The spider makes a sound that resembles a shriek, and James instinctively drops the hatchet, leaving it embedded in the dead spider.

James, armed now with just one hatchet, opts between kicking away bugs and hacking them open. A cockroach manages to hurl itself onto his arm, and James almost lobs off his forearm in the desperate attempt to get it off. He can feel fear building. He was never a fan of spiders in the first place, and huge ones scurrying toward him only heighten his paranoia.

The bugs seem intent on bringing James down to the ground before killing him, and latch onto his legs and arms. Swinging with his one free hand, James swings away, but there's so many. Dozens, all trying to kill the two tributes. He hears a cannon in the distance. One of the tributes, dead. Kaylana, maybe? James can only imagine what horrific things dwell in the swamp.

He feels an ant bite down on his leg, and James is suddenly refocused, shouting as he tears off the horrid insects. Occasionally his hatchet gets stuck in the terrible creatures, and he practically has to rip the insect in half to pull it free. Kicking wildly, James manages to shrug off some of the insects, only for a huge, hairy spider to scamper up his side. James feels it touch his neck, and it's about to chomp down when a sudden arrow pierces it, sending it flying off of him.

James looks over to Declan, who's almost covered in the bugs, except for his arms. In his hands, a bow. His quiver is empty. Instead of using it to help himself, Declan sent his last arrow flying to save James. He nods before drawing his kukri. "Go!" he shouts. "I'll fight 'em off!"

"I'm not leaving you!" James shouts, jumping up against a tree to get rid of a cockroach on his back. "Just keep swinging!"

Only Declan's right hand, grasping the machete, is left alone by the bugs. Otherwise, the boy's covered in beetles, ants, cockroaches, and the occasional spider, all working together in harmony to kill him. Declan swings wildly, his courageous statement made seconds ago dissolved into panicked screams. Occasionally, his kukri manages to send a bug careening off of him. Most times, he misses.

 _Come on, Warrior Boy,_ James thinks to himself. _Make up for Violet._

James could flee right now, run away; Most of the bugs are focused on Declan. But another cannon sounds, and James pulls his second hatchet from the dead spider and rushes forward, bellowing a war cry. He grabs and hacks off the insect's on Declan's face and chest. The muscular boy from 10 is covered in cuts and bites, and his screams are still full of panic. Crushing an ant approaching them, James clears the rest of the bugs off of Declan.

The boy looks at him, confusion in his eyes. "Why?" he quietly mutters.

"Does it matter?" James shouts. "Let's book it!" Even though the two of them have easily felled a few dozen bugs, dozens more still come crawling at them.

"Good idea!"

The two of them kick away the last bugs and start stampeding towards the general direction of the cave. A cockroach leaps onto James, and he just shoves it off of him and crushes it with his boot. He sees Declan, running to his left, but James keeps running to the right. Running as fast and as hard as he can, even faster than when he scooped up Violet that first day of the Games.

He's running so hard he doesn't notice he's barreled up a hill, and once at the top he quickly loses his balance.

He falls down the hill, hitting rocks and trees and thorns, only emitting quiet grunts as he goes.

Once at the end, James bangs his head on a particularly hard rock, and the last thing he hears before he fades into unconsciousness is the sound of a cannon.

 **.**

 _I'm_

 _._

 _So_

 _._

 _Sorry_

 _._

 _I_

 _._

 _Failed_

 _._

 _You_

 _._

 _Declan_

 _._

 _Beware the Ace of Spades..._

 _._

 _._

 _._

When James opens his eyes, he's still, lying down at the bottom of the hill. Pain aches all over his body. His stomach growls with hunger. His throat burns from dehydration, and he feels a horrible headache in his brain. How long has he been out? A day? Two?

His clothes are dirty, his hair's matted to his head with sweat, and the slightest of movements causes his exhausted joints to crack and groan with the effort. He's got a nasty cut along his stomach. James is hurting.

But he's alive.

Almost dead yesterday, probably dead tomorrow, but alive, graciously alive, today.

And that alone convinces him to get up with a grunt.

It's only when he stands does he notice the parachutes.

Five parachutes, each of different sizes, lay in bushes near him. Whoever's watching, seems to have paid a lot of money not to let him die after falling down a hill. Rubbing his head, he opens the first to find some sort of antiseptic and a piece of gauze. Before even attempting to check his bearings, remember where he is, James has let his mountaineering pack drop to the forest floor. He digs around in the pack for a moment or two, until he pulls out the pristine bandages, neatly wrapped in plastic.

James pours a bit of the antiseptic onto the gauze and places it where the pain hurts the most. He growls at the sharp pain fighting back, but wraps the wound in the bandages. He does the same for his stomach wound, which is definitely going to need stitches. He'll tend to that later. He wraps the bigger cuts and scrapes, the ones that are at risk of bleeding heavily if provoked, tenderly in bandages. A nasty cut across his wrist. A huge bug bite on his bicep.

"Thanks for the antiseptic," James says aloud. "It, uh...it helps. Can't go running around with a big-ass hole in my head." He says it dryly, but can imagine some people back the Capitol laughing at the comment.

The next parachute contains rabbit. And not just any rabbit, either: His father's rabbit soup, the recipe of which only he knows. This isn't a gift from a pitying soul or a lusting old woman in the Capitol. This is from District 7. His home. The people from his home have given this to him. He can only imagine what the fee of such a gift would be. In the Games, prices go up as time goes on and tributes dwindle, and they're at least eight days into the Games, maybe more. This probably cost an arm and a leg.

He thinks back to everyone in District 7. His athletic friends. Grant, Edsel, and the countless others that he's grown up with. Grant. Otto. His father. Buck. Iris. The bread is a statement. It says, "We still haven't forgotten about you."

James sits and dines in the stew quietly, and when he's done he stands and says, "To the people of District 7: Don't give up on me. Just because I took a tumble and a few bug bites doesn't mean I'm out of it." He quickly adds, "And thanks for the bread."

The rest of the parachutes contain varying items: Woolen socks (Which James quickly switches out with his dirty, torn cotton ones), a chicken dinner (Which hits James with a pang of sadness, remembering what he told Violet he wanted the day that he died), a whetstone. More medical supplies. It takes James ten minutes to organize it.

And then James, battered and bruised, but still the muscular boy from District 7 who has a fire in his heart, shrugs on his pack and says to the crowd, "Thank you, kind sponsors, for your gifts." He flashes a grin. "Your money won't be wasted, I can promise you that." He can hear the Capitol cheer from the arena.

But now it's time to move, and no more time for talking of future accomplishments. Even with the bandages and the hydrogen peroxide, he feels immense pain over his whole body, and is barely in fighting condition. The horrific bugs from however-many-days ago are gone, which soothes him. Still, if any of the remaining tributes stumble across him looking for a fight, then they're probably going to win. His biceps may be intimidating for anyone looking for a fistfight, but they ache terribly. James chugs down some water, and then sets about climbing the hill.

It's a painful process, marked with sharp pain, and James has to sit down for a moment, but then he's back at it. His stomach wound, probably caused by a sharp rock or his knife, starts to bleed through the bandage. His original prediction was right: He'll need stitches if the wound is to heal. Still, bleeding and bruised, he makes it to the top of the hill. He finds his bearings, and starts to walk, slowly but steadily, towards the cave.

Normally the cave's an hour or so away, but in his condition, it takes James three. Blood is oozing out of his stomach wound by the time the cave's in sight, and his knees are starting to buckle under his weight. He's in rough shape. Barely able to walk, James haphazardly pulls aside the bush and stumbles into the cave, collapsing on the ground. He's home.

James rolls over to assess his wound when he finds Declan, sitting on the other end of the cave, sharpening his kukri on a rock. His eyes widen for a moment with surprise, and then he says, "Was beginning to think you left me."

"I'd never leave you," James says dryly. "We're besties, remember?"

His grin widens. "I remember," his friend says. "And as a friend, I have to say you look like complete shit."

"Likewise," James grunts.

"Where the hell have you been?" Declan asks.

"Once we got separated, I fell down a hill," James says. "How long's it been since the bugs?"

"Smooth, and two days," Declan says, sliding over to him. "Damn, that head wound looks painful."

Two days, James thinks. So they're what, on Day Eight now? James has lasted one week and one day in the arena. He replies, "Doesn't hurt nearly as bad as my stomach, though."

Declan looks towards his stomach, and James nods. Declan lifts up his T-shirt (He has no idea where his windbreaker went) to find the blood-soaked bandage. He winces. "Yeah, that's bad. You're gonna need stitches."

James frowns. "I hate stitches."

Declan digs into a first-aid kit hanging around his belt. "Yeah, well, you probably hate an infection more, so boo-hoo."

James snorts as Declan tears away the bloody bandage and dumps water on a rag, cleaning the hole softly with it. James winces, and Declan murmurs, "Sorry."

"It's fine," James grunts as Declan wipes away blood with the rag. "How many of us are left?"

"Five," Declan says gravely. "Five of us are left."

Over three-fourths of them are dead. This takes a minute to settle in. "Damn."

"Damn is right." Declan pulls out a sewing kit, and the sewing of the sutures should hurt more, but the news is sinking in to James, and the pain isn't nearly as bad.

"I only heard two cannons before I fell down the hill," James says. "Who's died?"

"Kaylana and Michaela died when the bugs attacked," Declan says. _That explains the two cannons_. "Two days ago, I went out looking for you, and found Mick. He was all bloody and had all these nasty gashes all over him. He said Oxford found him, and asked me to make it painless and to, erm, to tell his mom that he loved him." Declan frowns. "It didn't hurt." All of a sudden, Declan's face is hit with a wave of sadness. He sees the frown turn from one of guilt to one of sadness, and tears start to brim in his eyes. "Kristina died yesterday."

 _Kristina_. Tall, beautiful, athletic Kristina, dead. James feels a pang of remorse. "I'm sorry," he says.

Declan sniffs. "Not your fault. Not your fault at all. We've both lost district partners now."

"So who's left?" James asks after a pause that lasts almost a minute. "Me, you, Oxford, and the two Careers?"

"Yep," Declan says. "Two Careers, one crazy boy, and the last two survivors of the Ace of Spades club."

"You think we were gonna be the last ones out of our original group to make it?" James asks as Declan continues to stitch his wound. "I'm sure the sponsors predicted it."

"Maybe," Declan shrugs. "I didn't think I was gonna make it through the first day. Wouldn't have, either, if you hadn't saved me." He looks at James with a smile. "Thanks for that."

James waves his hand. "Ah, it's nothing. You saved my ass at least twice since. The least I could do." He frowns. "I just wish I killed Oxford when we had the chance."

"Me, too," Declan says. "I was so pumped-up with adrenaline from the whole thing that I didn't stop to think. He's killed how many people now? Four? He got Amelia and the girl from 9, and then Mick, and I think he got Kristina."

"Oxford has killed a sixth of the tributes," James says. "Maybe more." He realizes he doesn't even know the name of the girl from District 9, and feels a bit saddened. "We're gonna make him pay."

"Damn straight we're gonna make him pay," Declan says. "And once we're done with him, we're gonna head to the Feast and make sure that Lepus pays for what she did to Violet. Then we're going to kill Pollish and go home."

This sounds nice to James, except the realization that only one of them will be coming home, and he voices this. "Uh, slight problem in your plan."

"I know," Declan says. "Both of us can't go home."

"You probably deserve to," James says. "I've got brothers and friends back in 7, but they'll move on. You should win, go back home to your...bees or whatever. Raise a family."

Declan smiles sadly. "I've got a wife back in 10."

"You do?" James asks, eyebrows raised.

"I do. Her name's Capulet. We got married when we both turned eighteen."

"Starting early," James says. "Respectable, I suppose."

"I was gonna open a bee farm," Declan says. "They're quite common, y'know. District 10 doesn't just raise cattle. They're the main honey supplier of Panem." He laughs dryly. "And the Hunger Games had to come and destroy my whole game plan."

"Cute," James says. He pauses, not sure what to say next. "We'll cross that bridge when we get to it."

Declan nods. "This is good. I don't want to kill you."

"I don't want to kill you."

The anthem of Panem suddenly booms. Since they're not required to view it, and since nobody's died, there really exists no reason to stay awake. James insists he stay awake to keep watch, but Declan, riddled in bug bites, firmly tells James he also has a giant wound in his stomach and probably a concussion, too, so James reluctantly settles down to sleep.

"G'night, James."

"Night, Declan."

And then he's out like a light.

 **.**

 **.**

.

When James opens his eyes, the sharp pains experienced the day before has been replaced by a dull wound that aches. Sitting up, he notices Declan, sitting near the cave entrance. He holds a silver parachute in his hand.

"Morning," James says. "Parachute?"

"Morning," Declan replies. "Yeah. Haven't opened it yet."

"Well, open it," James says, and Declan complies with a shrug. He pulls out a sharper kukri, which Declan takes with a wide grin, and then a pen. A ballpoint pen. Simple but fancy, probably came from the Capitol.

"Nice machete," James says.

"Thanks," Declan huffs, inspecting it. "It's good. Better than this old thing." He takes the old kukri out of its back sheath. "Want it?"

"Nah, I'm fine with my hatchets," James says, lightly tapping on the two hatchets tucked into his belt.

"Suit yourself." Declan slides the new machete into its sheath.

"Why the pen?" James asks curiously.

"Journal," Declan replies, digging into his pack and flashing a leather journal. "It's my district token. Lost the other pen yesterday."

"Ah," James responds. After a moment of awkward silence, James asks, "What do we do now?"

"Now?" Declan asks. "We should wait."

"Wait?"

"Till the feast," Declan says. "You're in no position to be moving, and I'm not doing so hot, either. We should wait until they announce the feast, and then we'll go there to fight."

James nods. "Spend a few days relaxing."

"It's like we're at the spa," Declan says. "Wanna go for a steam?"

"Sounds delightful."

James thinks that with this announcement, the Gamemakers will announce the Feast soon, but after several hours, it's clear they're giving the tributes and audience some time to cool down. If James had to guess, the bugs weren't meant to produce two casualties. Were probably just meant to kill one and injure the rest. He shudders. Both Kaylana and Michaela were felled by the bugs. Kaylana ran towards the swamp, so probably some horrendous creature got hold of her. Michaela, well, he forgot about her. If he wins, he'll find out how she died.

"Is that your token?" Declan asks, pointing a figure towards James' necklace, which he'd been fiddling absentmindedly.

"Yeah," James replies. "It's a...necklace with a gold clover on it."

"Lucky," he says. "I remember you saying something about it back in the Training Center." He exhales, glancing outside for a moment. "Who gave it to you? Brother?"

"No, a girl," James says. "Violet's sister. Iris, her name was."

Declan nods. After a moment, he asks, "You like her?" The sentence has no emotion behind it; Declan's just curious.

James hesitates. The whole nation will be listening to him. If Iris doesn't hear it herself, then she'll definitely be told. Still, he tells the truth. "I...I don't know. Maybe? I've spoken to her once. In the Justice Building, right before she gave me the necklace."

"What'd she say?"

"She asked me to keep Violet safe," James says bitterly. "I promised her that I would." He coughs, and feels a sharp pain in his stomach. "Never broken a promise before in my life. Not ever. But I'm still here and Violet's gone, and all I want to do is apologize."

Declan considers this a moment before his face hardens. "James, there's nothing you could've done. I was there. I saw you come barreling out of the bushes. They'd already gotten to her. You...you like to think that in the moment, you could've saved her, but there isn't anything you could've done."

"But..."

"No buts." Declan's eyes are both cold with bitterness and hot with vengeance at the same time. "You couldn't have done anything. When Kristina died, I lost it. Cried for almost two hours before I managed to wipe my eyes. I cared about her, James, the same way you cared about that little girl. I saw her running towards the forest. I could've went with her, stuck with her, but instead I ran into the Cornucopia. She's dead now, James. I could've helped her fend off Oxford or Pollish or whoever killed her, but I didn't. I got greedy. I blamed myself for her death."

Declan coughs, and finishes with, "They're both gone now. Nothing you or me could've done."

And then they don't speak for a long, long time, sitting in the cave. Two wounded tributes, the last of an alliance, hurt by the loss of their friends.

Amelia, Romeo, Violet, Kristina. The names all blend together, and James can't help but feel his heart ache for the deceased.

When the anthem plays, hours later, James takes watch for once. Declan mutters Kristina's name in his sleep, but he doesn't say anything. Maybe James mutters Violet's name in his sleep, too.

If either of them survive, nightmares will plague them for years to come.

But it's better than dying.

They talk politely on their second day back in the cave. Laugh about their respective districts. One time, Declan's sister, a girl named Lucy, tried to brew her own apple cider and almost burned down a barn. James tells of how Grant almost got into a fistfight with the Head Peacekeeper of District 7. Such stories help bring up the otherwise-glum mood in the day, and despite their injuries, the two sleep happily. Nobody dies that day, either.

The crowd will have recovered from the onslaught of dead tributes, and soon they'll want more.

Around midday on their third day in the cave, Declan asks, "So tell me about this Iris girl."

James cocks an eyebrow. "I already did. Those bug bites getting to your head."

Declan throws a piece of jerky at him. "I mean, like, what's she look like?" His eyes have a twinkle to them. "Is she hot?"

James snorts. "Shut up."

"I'm serious! Tell me!"

James sighs loudly. "Ugh, fine, just quit your yapping."

Declan beams. "Tell me, tell me, tell me." When James almost whips a water bottle at him, he finally stops talking.

"She looks like Violet," James says; It's the first time he's brought up Violet and hasn't felt extreme sadness hit him. "She's got skin that's not too bronze but not too pale, unlike Violet." Violet was unusually pale, considering all the time in the daylight Violet must've seen. "She's tall, five nine maybe, and has the same auburn hair as Violet, except she pulls it into a bun, instead of Violet." He can feel a smile creeping its way onto his face for reasons he doesn't know why. "Her eyes are this deep hazel, and it's hard to look into them for more than a few seconds."

"Anything else?"

"Freckles," James responds. "They dot her cheeks and her nose, and even her arms a little bit." He pauses. "That's it."

Declan stares at him a moment before grinning. "You like her, Warrior Boy."

"What? No!" James insists. "Where'd you even get that from?"

"You had this big dumb grin on your face when you were telling me what she was like," Declan smiles. "You've said maybe five sentences to this girl, but you're insane about her. I can tell." He pauses. "Tell me I'm wrong, lumberjack. Do it."

After a full ten seconds of silence, James just crosses his arms, still smiling, and says, "Shut up. Idiot."

Declan bursts into laughter. "I was right! Told you!"

James laughs back, and is about to respond when all of sudden trumpets play. James is filled with dread. Trumpets are played right before an announcement, which typically happens three times: Right before the Games start, when the Feast is announced, and when the victor's announced. It being that nobody's died in three days, that means one thing.

The Feast.

And Claudius Templesmith follows through. "To the remaining tributes in the arena, we invite you to a grand feast at the Cornucopia!" He says this every year, and the results of the "feast" can vary from stale bread to something James has seen at a football banquet. After a pause, Claudius adds, "Oh, one more thing! Some of you may be waving away my offer. Perhaps you have a surplus of food. Some of you have _reacquired_ it, and some of you have hunted it. But be warned, those who do not go the Feast will be encountering something not meant to be hunted. Weigh your options." He quickly finishes with, "Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds continue to be in your favor!" And then the announcement's over.

"Never a dull moment," Declan grumbles as they strap on their backpacks. The both of them know this is will probably be the final encounter, but they still carry most of their food with them. Just in case. "What do you think he meant with that last part? About the thing not meant be hunted?"

James checks to see if his hatchets are still in his belt. "It means that if we don't go to the Feast, then something nasty's gonna make sure we don't go home."

"Charming," Declan says, and the two step out of the cave.

Perhaps it was the bushes blocking the entrance, but it wasn't until now that James noticed the heavy fog settle over the arena. James can see maybe five feet in front of him, and the rest is covered by a heavy mist.

"Gross," Declan grumbles. "If they want us to go to the Feast so bad, then why don't they let us see?"

"So we can get mauled?" James says with a shrug. "I dunno, let's just go." He holds out his compass. "Cornucopia's a few miles north from here. Let's go." And together the two set off.

After a mile or two of silence, Declan asks, "How're you holding up?"

"I'm fine," James says. "My stomach doesn't hurt, and I think my concussion's healing. Thanks for the stitches, by the way."

"Anytime," Declan replies. "My ma's a seamstress, so I picked up a few things from her."

"Smart," James says.

They continue to walk in silence, and James feels his chest tighten when he realizes this might be the last day that either of them are alive. Declan's saved his life multiple times now: Shooting the Careers, attracting the bugs, stitching up his wounds. So he decides to voice his gratitude. "Look, Declan, if, uh...if I die by the end of today, I want you to know something."

"A bit of a loser's attitude," Declan says with that endless humor. "What?"

"Thanks," James says. "For saving me. For, uh, taking care of me. For being my friend." He's not used to expressing emotion like this, and it feels weird.

Declan smiles warmly. "You too. Thanks for saving me back at the Cornucopia, and then with the bugs. And, uh, you too, for being my friend."

James feels a warm glow in his chest, but soon James hears a cackle rip across the forest and he freezes with terror. "You hear that?" James asks, his fingers grasping one of his hatchets.

"Yeah, and I can't see shit," Declan frowns, drawing his bow. "What was it? The beast they were talking about?"

"No," James replies. "Beasts don't cackle, right?"

Another cackle, closer this time, and then he hears a haunted voice speak, only twenty feet ahead of them, masked by the heavy fog that blankets them. "Ace of Spaaaaades." It's insane and giggly and white-hot terror fills James' veins.

 _Oh, you must travel through those woods again and again..._

Another giggle, closer this time and to the right. Declan pulls the arrow notched in the bow back. "Who's there?!"

 _And you must be lucky enough to avoid the wolf every time..._

"Jaaaaames...Declan..." the voice trails off, insane to its very core. It's deep. A boy's.

 _But the wolf..._

A twig snaps less than ten feet away from them.

 _The wolf only needs enough luck to find you once._

Oxford, shrieking like a madman, comes barreling out of the food towards them, his brown eyes wild and laced with lunacy. Declan shoots the arrow, and it hits Oxford, but he doesn't stop moving. In fact, he speeds up, and right before he checks Declan, he punches his throat. Declan tumbles backwards, gasping for air. James has a hatchet out, and swings it at him. It catches Oxford in the hip, and Oxford slashes a knife towards him. It hits his cheek, only an inch under his eye, and James feels blood dribble down his face.

James grabs Oxford's knife and throws it aside, but before he can kill the dark-skinned maniac from District 11, but Oxford does the same and before long the two boys are engaged in a fist fight. Any other day, it'd be a fair fight, but James still has a concussion. Oxford isn't in good shape, either; He has the sting marks of tracker jackers, and his skin is scraped and bloody.

But he doesn't have a hole in his stomach, and soon Oxford punches James to the ground, his knife at his throat.

He has a sickly smile on his face. "Shh shh shh...don't struggle," he says, his voice haggard and crazed. "Don't fight and I won't make it slow. Not like that bitch from 10. She went slow."

"Fuck you," James growls, trying to wrestle Oxford's knife from his throat, but Oxford presses down tighter and James feels a tinge of pain in his throat and blood flows from the small cut he's made.

"Not very polite, not very polite." Oxford snickers. "Where are your manners? At least beg a little bit." Oxford's definitely gone off the deep end.

"You're crazy," James growls. "Go to hell, Oxford. I'm not begging." He spits in his face.

Oxford laughs, and pulls back the knife, instead opting to stab James instead of cutting his throat, but before he can Declan, recovered, rushes forward with his kukri. He hacks into Oxford's leg, and the insane boy screams with pain, dropping the knife and falling back on his knees. James scrambles to his feet, punching Oxford in the nose as he does so. In a flash, he has his hatchet, and the two surviving members of the Ace of Spades are facing Oxford, who's bleeding profusely and helpless.

Oxford just laughs again. "You can't take back what I did. I killed that girl, Kristina. She screamed out your name, 10. Screamed for Declan and James to save her. You can't take that back. She's dead and it wasn't painless."

"Shut up!" Declan roars, raising the machete.

Oxford cackles. "She died, 10! She's all dead and there's nothing you can do!" He leans his head back, and opens his mouth to laugh, but no laugh comes. Instead, Declan brings the kukri down on Oxford's head with a grunt. James looks away as blood splatters onto his pants and the cannon sounds.

Four left.

"Good riddance," Declan spits, pulling the bloody kukri out of the boy's head. "You crazy fucking _monster!_ "

James reaches out and squeezes Declan's shoulder. "Come on, Dec. Let's go."

Declan huffs, wiping away a tear. "Yeah, let's go."

The fog lifts as the hovercraft comes down to collect Oxford's broken, maimed body, and suddenly James knows where he is. "Cornucopia's maybe a mile away. Let's go."

Neither of them have suffered serious injuries, and the duo move on, ready to combat the last two remaining tributes.

James feels relieved as they get closer to the Cornucopia. There will be no more shivering on cold nights. No more trying to survive. No more murder. If he survives this, then James gets to go home to District 7. To the Victor's Village, where he'll never be forced to sleep in a cave or hide from murderers again.

And that motivates him to push on.

When they arrive at the Cornucopia and the field surrounding it, nobody's there.

"How do you wanna play this?" Declan asks quietly. "Do we wait, or do we go in."

James pauses a moment. They could be waiting for hours, and during that time his injuries might worsen. "Screw it," James replies. "Let's go."

Together, the two of them start walking towards the Cornucopia. The feast this year is elegant: He spots chicken and other meats even from a distance, but they've already eaten. No need to dine. A huge backpack, maybe one of the Careers', lays on the ground near the feast itself. The two of them approach cautiously. James tries to hide the pain in his gut. Declan's stitches helped, but it won't be a permanent solution.

They near the Cornucopia, and James leans down to the backpack. "What do you think's in it?"

Before he can hear Declan's response, he hears a loud shout and then someone shoves him facefirst into the grass. Thinking Declan's betrayed him, James rolls over and looks up to see Declan, who James presumes has been lying to him all this time.

Instead he sees Pollish, standing ten feet away, hostility on his face

And Declan, sprawled on the ground next to him, a large spear embedded in his waist.

* * *

 _Chapter 11, super long as promised! I'm not going to speak much of this, but I will say that next chapter will be the final confrontation that's been prepared ever since that first day in the Training Center. That's all for now! Remember to review!_

 _REVIEWS:_

 _Sparky She-Demon: They really have! Thanks for all the reviews, hope you're enjoying the story!_


	12. Chapter Twelve: Newton's Third Law

_"Once more into the fray, into the last good fight I'll ever know. Live and die on this day...live and die on this day." -Jon Treloar_

* * *

 **A/N: Horrific death in this chapter. If you're grossed out with this, then I'd skim ahead.**

* * *

In the span of three seconds, James already has his hatchet out and throws it as hard as he can. Pollish tries to step out of the way, but the hatchet still lands in his side, and the boy gasps, falling to his knees, blood pouring out of the wound

James looks over at Declan,with half a spear buried in his gut. The beekeeper from District 10 is shaking, blood pouring out of his wound. Declan has just pushed James out of the way and taken a spear for him, a spear that will most certainly end his life.

Before James can comfort him, though, Lepus steps out of the Cornucopia. Her leg is still wrapped in gauze from when James slashed her. Her eyes wide, she looks at Pollish and Declan, both dying, and then at James with fury in her eyes.

"You," she snarls. "You did this."

"You did this!" James shouts, pointing at Declan.

Lepus, who lost all her knives during the encounter with Violet, holds a sword now; James has his hatchet. Neither of them could risk trying to make a ranged throw. James drops his clunky backpack, letting it fall to the ground.

Four tributes remain, all at the Cornucopia. Two are doomed to die, the other two wounded, but destined to fight to the death. This has been coming. Ever since James embarrassed her in the Training Center. James, the Warrior Boy from District 7, and Lepus, the sly wolf from District 1. James is certain no two tributes have ever hated each other as much.

Lepus killed James' district partner, a little girl. The thought of James holding Violet as she cried causes him to glare at her a little harder.

James killed Tybalt, Lepus' brutish district partner. There was no goodbye for Tybalt; When James was done with him, Tybalt was unrecognizable.

For a moment, the two stand there, staring each other down, their friends groaning, dying on the ground beside them. And then Lepus laughs. A bitter laugh. "Figured that it'd end this way. Knew it right when I stabbed that little girl." She grips the sword a little tighter. "Too bad you won't get to avenge her."

Before either of them can attack, James says, "Newton's third law."

Lepus pauses. "What?"

"Newton's third law," James says. "Have you heard of it?"

Lepus looks confused more than anything. This is not the time for a physics lesson.

"Newton's third law states that for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction," James grunts. He can feel the tension in the Capitol. "You are my action." He grins a bitter, angry grin. "And I am your reaction."

And then Lepus steps forward and James barrels towards the girl from District 1, the fury and agony and suffering of his life being emitted in a war cry that shakes the trees. Lepus slashes at him with the sword, and he dodges, swinging at her head but only nicking an ear. Lepus slashes at his hand, nearly cutting half of his fingers off, and James leaps backward. Blood drips from Oxford's wound. Lepus charges forward, and James fights her off, barely. Declan and Pollish lay incapacitated, groaning weakly.

"Just...die...already!" Lepus growls, trying to lob off James' head but being blocked and punched in the face.

"Never!" James grunts, grazing her bare bicep. Blood starts to dribble from the wound.

They hear a cannon, and both pause, for a brief moment, to look at the two bodies on the ground. Pollish lays on the grass, his eyes wide open, gazing up at the sky. Declan still groans. They're down to three.

"Beware the Ace of Spades, Career!" James shouts, blocking an attack.

Lepus responds by trying to stab him in the throat. James sidesteps to the left and swings, slashing open her hip. Lepus howls in pain, deflecting a second blow, before looking at James' bandage and grinning.

"Your stomach your Achilles' heel, Warrior Boy?" Lepus asks, and then swings at James' stomach.

The pain in James' gut is excruciating, and James screams out, falling to his knees. The sutures have definitely been ripped open, and blood oozes from the wound. If it doesn't get attended to, his organs might fall out.

Lepus beams, and raises her sword, but James deflects the blow, barely, and on his knees grabs her ankle and throws her to the ground. Lepus manages to cut open part of James' side, but not before she falls back-first onto the ground, her sword clattering next to her. James reaches into his belt, pulls out his blade, and drives it deep into Lepus' leg.

 _Amelia Schultz._

The girl shrieks out in pain, swinging wildly with the sword, before James takes her sword hand in her hand, and with a hatchet in the other, completely cleaves off Lepus' right hand.

 _Romeo Witsworth._

When Lepus emits a bloodcurdling scream and tries to punch James with her remaining hand, James crawls on top of her and swings the hatchet into the girl's forearm, leaving it dangling by a thread.

 _Kristina McEvoy._

The noises, choked and pained, being emitted by Lepus are too painful to hear, and James throws a punch into her face. "Shut up!" he shouts. "Shut up! You deserve it! You deserve all of it! You killed her!" His voice softens. "You killed her."

 _Declan Page._

James gives up, and reaches for his hatchet. He's never murdered in this capacity before. He looks into Lepus' eyes. She's given up any resemblance on hate, and is now just weeping softly. Her eyes, full of horror and sadness and excruciating pain, look up at James. "Just make it fast," she says, and her voice cracks, and she closes her eyes, crying louder.

 _Violet Innocens._

James sighs, and brings down the hatchet on her chest. She gasps, and her eyes flutter open before the life leaves them, and the cannon fires. James hates Lepus, hates her for her arrogance and for killing Violet, but he won't redo what he did with Tybalt. He'll make sure her body can identify her.

And then it's just two of them left. James heaves himself off of mangled, dead Lepus, and drags himself towards Declan. Pain, pain that makes him want to scream, aches over his whole body. His stomach bleeds, and at one point during the fight Lepus managed to cut open his leg as well. All he can do is pull Declan into his lap. The boy's shaking quietly now, and tears stain his bloody face.

"James..." Declan croaks.

"Shh..." James says. "Shh shh...you're okay with me...shh shh...you're safe now." Declan's going to die. Even if James killed himself right here so Declan could be winner, he'd be dead before the doctors could save him. He feels tears come, and lets them fall.

And Declan says something that James never would've expected from charming, fearless Declan. He whimpers, "I'm afraid, James. I'm afraid." He's crying harder now. "I don't wanna die, James."

"Shhh," James says quietly, but now he's crying. "Just let it wash over you. Don't fight it, Declan. In just a minute, you're going to be okay." His voice cracks. "No more Hunger Games, Declan. You get to go somewhere nice."

Declan's shaking worse. "It hurts so much."

"Shh...don't fight," James whispers. Declan's dying. He doesn't tell him to stay with him, like he did Violet, because he knows that this time, there's no coming back. "Just...just close your eyes, Declan. Everything's going to be okay."

Declan, trembling and sobbing, nods, and closes his eyes.

"There you go, Dec," James whispers, squeezing his shoulder. "It's all gonna be okay. Think of District 10. Think of the warm sunrise over the district in the morning. Think about Lucy. Think about your bees." Managing to somehow not break down, he says, "Think about Capulet. Think happy thoughts."

"Happy thoughts," Declan echoes, and he's weaker. There's not much time left.

"Yeah, happy thoughts," James weakly repeats. "It's all okay now, Declan. Don't fight. You're done fighting."

Declan, eyes closed, lets out the smallest hint of a smile amid his trembling and sobbing.

And then Declan Page, the male from District 10, goes still. He stops shaking. The cannon goes off, and then it's just James left.

Declan's dead.

As the trumpets blare, and Claudius Templesmith announces that James Henderson has won the 68th Annual Hunger Games, James just presses his forehead against Declan's and starts to cry.


	13. Epilogue

_"You've got to go through it to get to the end of it." -Suzanne Collins_

* * *

The last thing James remembers before blacking out is frozen on the hovercraft, being very gradually lifted to the top. Despite his lack of movement, blood still flows from his wounds, and the pain is getting hard to manage. James wants to open his mouth and scream, but he's helplessly frozen.

Luckily, the moment he's unfrozen, he falls to the floor of the hovercraft, unconscious in seconds.

 **.**

 **.**

When James opens his eyes, he's still in the hovercraft. Tubes go in and out of his body, some large, some small. Machines beep at various rhythms, all presumably keeping him alive. He sits up, and looks over at a window. He can see the landscape, zooming by. They're heading back to the Capitol.

He's safe now.

He's almost naked, save for his socks and boxers. The rest of him is wrapped in bandages. Pain, dull pain, numbed partially by morphling or whatever drug the Capitol's using, aches through him. James looks back at the window, and then gasps to find someone looking back at him. Then he realizes that it's just his own reflection.

A monster gapes back at him.

He's unshaven. His hair's greasy. Wild, terrified eyes look back at him, and he can see tears brimming in them. His forehead is wrapped in a tight bandage. His eyes have bags under them. His cheeks are hollow.

A woman, a doctor guessing by her scrubs, walks into James' makeshift hospital room. Her nose and mouth are covered by a medical mask, but her eyes widen. "He's awake!" she calls out. "He's awake!"

Before James can say anything, he falls back asleep.

 **.**

 **.**

James doesn't know how long he's asleep for.

Hours?

Days?

Years?

He drifts in and out of flashbacks from the arena, in no particular order. Sometimes, he's sitting in a tree with Violet, other times he's laughing in the cave with Declan. Once or twice, he has to relive Caesar's murder. During the brief period of time he's awake, he finds that he's in a room with no doors and no windows. He's too exhausted to try and figure out where he is.

This continues for awhile.

Dream. The dreams his drugged-up brain conjure are usually happy. Climbing a tree with Otto. Laughing at a football banquet with Justinian, back before he was Reaped.

Then awaken for a few minutes at a time, dazed and confused, before falling back asleep.

Dream. His father's hearty chuckle booming through their household.

Awaken.

Dream. Romeo telling a dumb pun about coal in the Training Center.

Awaken.

And then one time, James opens his eyes, ready to fall back asleep, but he finds no medical tubes stuck in him, and a door has materialized in the room, and hangs wide open. James, fully naked save for some tight-fitting Capitol briefs, looks at the end of his bed and shudders at the outfit.

Waiting at the end of his bed is a clean version of what he wore in the arena. Cotton socks, pants, olive shirt, black windbreaker. James half-expects his bright-orange backpack that he lugged around at all times during the Games to be there. He knows he'll have to greet his prep team in this outfit, so he reluctantly puts it on.

As James throws the T-shirt over his head, he notices that he's...clean. His stomach is still bandaged, but there's not a heavy roll of gauze around his waist still time. A light layer of bandaging, so light it won't stick out in his clothes. He puts his hand to his forehead and finds that's it not bandaged. He can't even feel stitches. The rest of his body, from his biceps to his toes, remain fully clean. His fingernails aren't caked with dirt and blood, but shine.

He knows it's customary for the Capitol to transform the wounded, haggard mess of a victor into a human being, but it's still dumbfounding how they could change James into his condition in this time. He feels his stomach lightly after putting on his pants. He's lost a lot of weight, a decent amount of his muscle from hunger, but still it's strong. After zipping up his windbreaker halfway up, James places his feet on the floor.

When his legs don't give out under him, he's more than relieved. James takes a few steps forward, and then leaves the room. He's in a white hallway with no doors, but at the end of the hallway he sees a large chamber. He sees them all — Blight, Eques, Bunting, Cliff. James tries to run to them, but falters and resolves to stumbling towards them. Once he reaches Blight and Eques, he pulls the two into a huge bear hug.

"G'job," Eques smiles.

"Nice one, Henderson," Blight says with a grin.

When he realizes, Bunting's rubbing him on the back, speaking in his melodic voice. "Oh, you poor thing, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," James says. "Fine now. Well, actually, I'm hungry as hell."

Bunting smiles. "You'll get to eat soon enough. Now, go with Cliff." Bunting nods to James' stylist. Cliff, still sporting his blonde hair and earrings, has lost his eyebrow piercing and his eye black. He wears only a T-shirt now, revealing surprisingly strong arms.

Cliff smiles warmly. "Come on, James. Let's go."

James relaxes as Cliff guides him through the hospital and into the elevator. The hospital goes deep under the ground of the Training Center, but James doesn't care as Cliff leads him into the elevator and presses a button to go to the seventh floor. As they pass the floors, faces flash through his mind, and James tries not to think of the twenty-three tributes who perished in the arena.

When the elevator opens, his prep team is hugging him tight. Livius, Dax, and Fragrance. James can't decipher their speech, but grins and squeezes them as they hug him. He doesn't like them as much as Cliff or Bunting, but after them they're the only people from the Capitol he can stand except maybe Caesar Flickerman.

After the brief reunion, they head into the dining room and James tastes his first Capitol meal in awhile. Chicken, rolls, and rice pilaf. It's delicious, though James is refused seconds.

"Can't be throwing up on stage," Dax says. James doesn't like this, but when Dax hands him a chicken leg under the table with a wink he accepts it.

After the meal, he's given a shower and his prep team starts to work on him, enviously admiring a "full body polish" James received. He thinks back to embedding his axe in Pollish's chest and shudders. As they continue to make him pretty for the cameras, they talk about the various events during the Games and what they were doing when it happened.

When James found the cave with Violet, Fragrance was fast asleep.

When Romeo saved Declan's life, Livius was getting her fingers painted.

When Declan whirled around a tree with his bow right after James murdered Tybalt, Dax was doing his laundry.

As they ramble, James does his best to hide a scowl. They talk about it like they were just watching television; Even though the Games were televised, it doesn't mean that they were scripted. They talk about the dead tributes like characters in a TV show, and James almost clocks Fragrance when he talks about Kristina getting butchered.

Cliff comes in a few minutes later with James' outfit. It's a quaint outfit: Black leather shoes, khaki pants, an olive T-shirt (Identical to the one he wore in the arena), and a navy-blue quarter-zip. Not a suit.

When James sheds his arena clothing for the and puts on the outfit, James look at Cliff. "Am I pretty?"

Cliff laughs a little. "A beauty." He suggests that James take off the quarter-zip. When James asks why, Cliff replies, "I want you to give off a very...relaxed look. No fancy suits. Just a boy."

This is strange for a victor to appear, but James agrees with Cliff's choice in every other way and takes off the quarter zip. The T-shirt fights for control against his muscles, which are still prominent despite the malnutrition survived in the past eight days. James realizes that he still looks like a warrior, like a protector. _Nothing left to protect_ , James bitterly thinks to himself, his hand dashing to the clover necklace. It's still there, and he feels relieved.

They head down to where they trained, and James nervously waits for everyone to go. It's customary for the the prep team to rise from beneath the stage first, followed by the escort, then the stylist, then the mentor, then the victor. Since Eques has done the majority of Violet's mentoring, and Blight mentored James for the most part, Blight will be the one to rise from the stage. Blight approaches James right as the prep team starts going up.

"How do you feel?" Blight asks. His beard is clean, but much longer than when James last left him. His hair's longer, too. Deep bags hang over his eyes.

"Fine," James replies. "You look like ass, Blight."

Blight smiles a bit. "Likewise." He rubs his eyes. "I never get any sleep during the Games." He looks at James again. "Tell me, actually, how do you feel?"

James pauses, and then says, "Horrible." His gaze drops to the floor. "I let her down, Blight. I was all she had, and I let that little girl down."

Blight rubs his shoulder. "I'm not gonna tell you it's not your fault, because you heard enough of that from Declan in the arena. You did your best, you tried, but she didn't make it." Blight lets his hand fall from James' shoulder. "It's okay. She made it far. Wouldn't have lived the first day if it wasn't for you. Don't forget that." He leads him over to the metal plate. "Try not to dwell on it."

"I won't," James says as Blight starts to ascend up to the stage. "Thanks, Blight."

"Anytime," Blight responds, and then it's James' turn to step on the metal plate.

He hears the loud rumbling as the prep teams and stylists are introduced. Then it's Bunting's turn, and he swears Bunting's louder than the entire audience combined. Blight, handsome and with eyes that can melt the hearts of any Capitol woman, brings on loud cheers.

He feels himself start to rise, similar to how he started to rise into the arena, and then the crowd deafens him with their cheers. Caesar welcomes the audience, his voice booming loudly. The crowd's screaming now, whooping and clapping as James smiles and waves at the crowd, his quarter-zip folded neatly over his other arm, which brings on another wave of cheers.

James paces over to the victor's chair, a plush red chair designed for, obviously the victor, and shakes Caesar's hand before taking a seat. A few short jokes later, Caesar announces it's time for the mandatory viewing of the Games. James looks strong and healthy, sitting in the chair, compared to the horrible person James was only a few days ago, when he was retrieved from the Games.

The mandatory viewing will be played all through Panem, and is a three-hour video of the Hunger Games. The lights dim, and the Capitol seal appears on the screen. James feels short of breath, but tries not to let it show. He'll have to relive all eight days of the arena, have to watch twenty-three of his fellow tributes die, some by his own hand. He'll have to watch not only Amelia, Declan, and Violet die all over again, but Romeo and Kristina be slaughtered. He remembers Oxford saying Kristina died slowly.

The first half-hour focuses on the pre-arena events, first starting with the Reapings. The camera focuses most on James and Violet's Reapings, of course, but spends a bit more time on Declan and Romeo's Reapings. The girl standing next to Declan, Capulet, sobs as he's taken away. He whispers something to her as he goes. Only she will ever know. As Violet is called up to the stage, the camera focuses on James himself, whose face turned from a blank face to a scowl.

Then the chariot ride, where James is clad in his clunky outfit, angelic Violet next to him. It cuts now to a scene in the chow hall of the Training Center, where the six members of the Ace of Spades are laughing over lunch. James isn't surprised they filmed this, but still, it unnerves him. Then the training scores and interviews. What irritates James is the upbeat soundtrack playing through most of it, since almost everyone on the screen is dead.

Then the arena scenes occur. Every year, whoever's in charge of (somewhat impressively) cutting down the footage into three hours tells a story. This year, they tell one of friendship. It starts with James and the rest of his alliance tapping their biceps to signify where they're going, and then there's detailed coverage of the bloodbath at the Cornucopia. James gets the first kill, slashing open Caesar's throat with a knife. Every now and again, they display the victor's reaction in the bottom right, in a box. James looks at his stunned face in the corner, and then compresses it into a frown.

After James kicks Oxford off of Declan, bludgeons Scotten, and scoops up Violet, they switch to the rest of the tributes dying for a while before switching to James and Violet, together. It shows James talking to Violet about how they need shelter. Amelia getting butchered right below the two of them. They focus on James, thumbing the necklace, whispering for the necklace to keep him safe.

Then it's time for Romeo's death.

It's just like Declan said: Declan tries to run to steal some food, weaponless. Ontario, holding a bow, fires off an arrow at him before running after her, her leg wound barely noticeable. Declan's strong, and no match for the bow, and he would've ran faster if he didn't roll an ankle running from Ontario. Ontario's about to put an arrow through his head when Romeo, sitting in a tree, hucks rocks at her, distracting the girl from District 2.

Romeo leaps from the tree, and starts to grapple with Ontario for the bow, yelling for Declan to run. Romeo manages to fend off the girl until she pulls a knife and shanks him twice. Romeo collapses, but before Ontario can finish him off he wrestles for the knife, rips it from her hands, and plunges it into her chest. The two of them die, side-by-side, right as Declan returns to help Romeo.

The camera pans to James and Violet, collecting berries, and the Careers, nearing them. Declan follows them quietly, holding Ontario's bow in his hand. And then it's time for Violet's death.

They play it in full: Lepus stabbing Violet, James breaking through the trees, sending the axe into Tybalt's chest. Olivia turning to run, and Declan stepping out from behind a tree, scowling as he sends the arrow into her neck. James slashing open Lepus' leg and then hacking Tybalt to a pulp. Declan whirling around the tree, ready to shoot James. James and Violet, both crying, as she dies in his arms. James is trying hard to fight back tears as he watches his older self break down on television.

The scenes alternate between Mick being slashed by Oxford and being left for dead, James touching the necklace, Lepus' recovery, Kristina, hiding in a tree, and Kaylana, who hides halfway-submerged in the swamp to the north.

Then it's time for the bugs to attack, and James shudders as he watches the tributes do battle with the horrific insects.

James and Declan, picking off the creatures until they swarm the two of them. James saving Declan from being eaten alive, and then taking a tumble down a hill.

Kristina, still in her tree, does well with a stick and a rock, kicking away the insects as they come.

Oxford finds Michaela, and she asks him to help until he throws a knife at her that barely misses her. Oxford's full blown insane. Michaela tries to flee, and accidentally slams into a tracker jacker nest while running, and Michaela shrieks as the wasps engulf her, killing her, and sting Oxford a few times before he gets away.

The insects leave a dying Mick alone, surprisingly. Mick watches with wounded, wild eyes as they crawl past.

Lepus and Pollish climb on top of the Cornucopia and fight off the insects with ease.

Kaylana, the girl from District 3, initially does well in the swamp, stabbing and slashing away the bugs with a knife. That is, until a spider the size of a car drags her underwater, and Kaylana drowns after screaming her lungs out underwater as the spider bites and stings her. It's one of the worst deaths yet, and James is horrified and relieved he didn't head to the swamp.

Once the bugs crawl away, the camera focuses on the remaining tributes: James, Declan, Oxford, Lepus, Pollish, Mick, and Kristina. First James, with a nasty head and stomach wound, unconscious, as the first silver parachute lands on him, and then a wounded Declan, looking around confused for James. Oxford panting and delirious, huddled in a corner, tracker jacker stings only adding more to his insanity. Mick, whimpering and bloody. Kristina, whispering out Declan's name in the darkness. Lepus and Pollish, idly waiting at the Cornucopia, munching on their rations.

James is still unconscious as Declan goes out looking for James, calling his name out. The audience awws at Declan's brave attempt to risk the Careers while wounded to try and find James, and James smiles sadly to himself. Declan really was a true friend.

Mick is found by Declan, nearing death at a stream. Declan eyes him up and down.

"That looks like it hurts," Declan calmly says.

"It does," Mick coughs.

They sit and have a short conversation, before Mick explains what happened to him and asks him to be put out of his misery. Declan says, "I'm sorry this happened to you, Mick," and then sighs, squeezing his eyes shut and wincing as he shoves his knife into Mick's chest. The boy gasps, and then the cannon sounds. Declan wipes tears away, closes Mick's eyes, and wanders off.

James is still unconscious as Kristina is found by Oxford. Oxford wasn't lying, either: He stabs Kristina in the stomach and she screams for hours. Eventually Oxford gets bored and cuts her throat open, and James feels a tinge of hate towards the boy.

The camera follows James getting up the next day, thanking the crowd and his own district. The camera zooms in on his necklace, and then cuts to Declan, right as James walks into the cave. The look of surprise on his face. That night, as James sleeps, Declan stands watch with a big grin on his face.

After a conversation between James and Declan where they laughed about times they hurt themselves (Declan fell off a barn and James fell out of a tree), they cut to the fight with Oxford. Declan rubbing his throat, and then leaping to his feet when Oxford speaks of Kristina. The murder is shown fully.

And then the final duel at the Cornucopia. Declan shoving James and taking a spear in the gut for him, Pollish in turn receiving an axe to the chest.

The duel between James and Lepus is shown in full, too. James, bloody and barely alive, managing to get Lepus onto the ground, stabbing her bad leg, and then hacking off her hand and almost removing her other forearm before burying the hatchet in the girl's chest. James feels awful. He hated Lepus, but she didn't deserve such a gruesome death.

And then James comforts Declan as the boy dies, telling him he's going to be okay, and not to fight it, and to think happy thoughts. James feels a tear or two fall from his cheek, and wipes it away quickly as he watches his last friend in the arena die in his arms. Then the 68th Annual Hunger Games are over.

President Snow takes the stage next, and the crowd explodes into cheer as he gives James the victor's crown. There's no hate in the president's eyes, just a polite smile, but James hates the president. Hates him with a passion. For what he did to Violet. To Declan. To Romeo.

Afterwards, James is whisked away to the banquet held at President Snow's mansion. James refrains from eating, instead taking pictures and shaking hands with Capitol officials and increasingly-drunk citizens. A woman proclaims to be the one who gave him the hydrogen peroxide that saved his life, and he thanks her until she tries to kiss him, and then he backs away. He sees Blight and Eques in the crowd, and this soothes him, but for the most part he's alone.

Two Capitol girls, young, around his age, who have somehow gotten into the banquet approach him and smile at him flirtatiously. One of them, who has shiny eyes that look purple, touches his bicep, and James immediately steps back. The girl looks at him in confusion, and asks why he doesn't like her.

"I'm sorry," James says with a polite smile. "But I'm taken. I have someone back home I care about."

"Who?" the girl demands, stomping her foot with a frown.

James just smiles some more, and taps on his necklace. _Iris._ He still hasn't spoken to her at all, and doesn't hold any actual connection to her, but it's better than whatever the Capitol girl has in store for her. She's beautiful in comparison to the girl from the Capitol: The freckles that dot her face are immeasurably cuter than this girl's purple eyes.

The banquet continues, and James finds himself talking to more and more Capitol officials. At least a fifty-something Gamemaker won't hit on him. One of them, a heavier man whose name is Plutarch, congratulates him on winning.

"Thanks," James says, letting his gaze fall to the floor.

"You feel upset?" Plutarch asks. "Is it the girl? Violet?"

James nods. "I felt like I could do something." Why he's talking to this man, a random Gamemaker, about his guilt with Violet, he doesn't know, but it's better than an old Capitol lady trying to slobber on his lips.

Plutarch just smiles. "If there's any comfort to be taken in her death, and there likely isn't a damn good bit of it besides this, it's that she doesn't have to be at the banquet. Imagine what it would be like for her, a bunch of old Capitol ladies swooning over her."

James can't help but laugh at the prospect. "She'd be very uncomfortable. Would probably punch someone." When the Secretary of the Treasury, an older man with white hair, calls James over for a picture, James says, "Thanks, Plutarch," and walks away. A random Gamemaker, a person who probably tried to kill him with bugs, has just cheered him up, even if just a little bit

"Anytime, Mr. Henderson," Plutarch says.

The next day, James is to have an interview with Caesar. This is the first time that the country gets to hear the victor, since no interviewing happens the previous day. There's no audience this time, instead in the sitting room of the Training Center, right next to the kitchen. James wears similar khaki pants, but instead of a T-shirt he has on a commando sweater, the same one he wore when he boarded the train to the Capitol, a lifetime ago. As the camera crews are setting up, James walks up to Caesar, who shakes his hand.

"Congratulations, James," Caesar says with a warm smile. "How are you doing?"

"Tired," James says. "Can't wait to head home and sleep for a year."

"Make it a thousand and you'll have me convinced," Caesar says with a twinkle in his eyes. "If it's of any comfort to you, after this interview you'll be done with them for quite some time."

"Then I'll make sure to blow this one out of the park."

"That's the spirit!" Caesar grins. "Just be yourself and you'll do great."

James likes Caesar. He's comforting, and helps you when you need it. He's less of an interviewer and more of a friend. James sits down on a couch, Caesar in a chair opposite him. Someone counts down from five, and then Caesar's introducing the Warrior Boy from District 7 and victor of the 68th Annual Hunger Games, James Henderson.

Caesar asks, "How are you feeling, James? After everything?" Caesar asked this question to him personally just a moment ago, but the look in his eyes tells James that this is a question he should answer formally.

"Relieved," James replies. "I feel...relieved. I'm saddened by the loss of those I protected during the Games, but I feel some relief in knowing that I've made it through and there's blue skies ahead."

Caesar nods, and James knows he's answered the questions right. "Speaking of those you protected, all of us saw how you treated Violet during the Games. It was a very close bond, perhaps comparable to a brother and sister. It was very touching. There's no sense in asking how you felt after her tragic end, but I must ask: What was your incentive to protecting her? Was there any reasoning to it?"

James shifts uncomfortably in his seat, and Caesar gives a slight nod, as if to say, _it's okay, you've got this_. James takes a deep breath, and replies, "I suppose, when it comes down to it, there wasn't any realistic incentive to protecting her. But I made a promise to someone who values her to protect, and I'm not sure that I could live with myself if I just...abandoned her when the Games started."

"Well, all of us know from our days in the cave that you didn't just cast her aside," Caesar replies. "In fact, you charged an armed tribute just to get her out of harm's way. What was your mindset when you saw Scotten, the boy from District 8, threaten to hurt her?"

"I wanted to make sure that he wouldn't," James says firmly. "There's a certain level of anger that's only reached when someone you care about is threatened. I didn't know Violet before the Reapings, but afterwards she was my friend. I wasn't about to let him hurt her." James remembers Scotten howling with pain before James finished him off with a second blow to the chest.

"How about Justinian?" Caesar asks. "Some of us have forgotten about your brother, who tragically froze last year. If you could talk to him now, what would you say.

James ponders this a moment before coming up with a final answer. "I'd tell him that throughout the whole Games, he was in my thoughts, and that I won it for him."

From here, Caesar segways into all the ways James has been injured, from pulling a hamstring running with Violet to his painful tumble down the cliff, and his subsequent gashes (James now knows that the cut across his stomach was from his knife pointing the wrong way in his belt when he was falling. Caesar touches on his perished allies, Romeo and Declan in particular, before he asks James, "James, what is the Ace of Spades? We all heard Declan say it the night of his interview so many moons ago, and we saw you and a few others smile. Care to enlighten us?"

James smiles a bit. "I'm not sure I can do that, Caesar. That's classified."

Caesar scoffs jokingly. "Come on, you have to tell us."

"Oh, fine," James replies. "The Ace of Spades was an alliance between the tributes of Districts 7, 10, and 12. We had no goal in mind, we just didn't want to murder the others, I suppose." James rubs his chin. "The alliance was just words for awhile. Something that didn't actually matter, until Romeo sacrificed himself for Declan. Once there was a solid alliance between Declan and I, a concrete goal to take down the Careers, it was too late." James is frowning now. "Half of us had perished in the arena, and another was missing."

Caesar nods knowingly. "It was tragic. That final battle in the Cornucopia, between you and Lepus, was the most vengeful one we've seen in years. There doesn't seem to have been any true _hatred_ between you and the other tributes, not even Scotten, but when you and Lepus clashed that stunned many of us. When did your deep-rooted hatred for the girl start?"

"Well, Caesar," James starts, "Technically it started in the Training Center. I embarrassed her during a display with axes, which, as you've seen, I excel at. It was just a somewhat-friendly rivalry, though, until I got into the arena. I know Lepus started to hate me much more than I hated her when I killed Caesar that first day in the arena. Once Lepus killed Violet though, Caesar, there was no bringing me back from how I felt about her. I wanted her dead, and after I wounded her and killed her district partner, Lepus was in the same place as me." James sighs.

"Well, we all could definitely feel the hate brewing in the arena, that much is for sure," Caesar says. "Our final question, and one we've all been wondering for awhile: What's your story with the necklace? We've seen you holding it like you've had it for years, but you didn't have it on at the Reaping. Throughout the Games, you've kissed this clover and fallen asleep with it clutched in your hand. Who gave it to you? What's its story?"

James smiles wryly. "Oh, Caesar, the story of this necklace is for me and me alone. All I can tell you is that this necklace has given me more good luck than anything else in my life, and that it's invaluable to me."

Caesar tries to pry it out of him, but James remains firm, thumbing the necklace with a smile. Caesar finally relents, and the interview's over.

James trudges over to Blight and asks, "How'd I do?"

Blight's hair and beard have been trimmed, probably Cliff's work. "You did fine," he replies. "Now go get ready. We're heading home."

James takes the only things he has, his Reaping clothes, and heads for the elevator. He has a very brief goodbye with Cliff, but it doesn't matter because he's going to see him in a few months during the Victory Tour, where they force everyone to pretend they love James. He dreads visiting District 1, since he murdered both of their tributes, and did it painfully.

James is escorted with Blight and Eques through the streets in a darkened car, and then they board the train. James eats a huge dinner fit for a king, as they replay the interview. Afterwards, James retires to his room, and quickly falls asleep.

James has a happy dream after he fades into the sweet embrace of sleep.

In the dream, he awakens to find Blight, knocking on a door with a smile, and telling him dinner's ready. James groggily heads to the dining car to find everyone's waiting for him, and once they notice him they cheer.

Declan, Romeo, Kristina, Amelia. Mick. Violet. Justinian. They have big grins on their faces, and no signs of their wounds. No blood covers them. They're dirt-free.

James immediately hugs Justinian, and then Violet, and even Declan. He's giggling and laughing the whole time, and for a moment nothing else matters in the world because he's with his friends and everything's okay.

He eats the feast, laughing with his brother and the members of the Ace of Spades, and the banter is just as if they were alive in the chow hall of the Training Center.

And then James opens his eyes, and finds he's alone in the bedroom of the train. He curls up in a ball, trying to fall back asleep.

He's all alone.

All alone.

The feeling doesn't shake him as they pull into the train station of District 7, and James ignores the loud cheers of the crowd and flashes of the cameras. His eyes scan the crowd. They spot his friends, Ven, and a few girls he dated before the Reapings, before everything went wrong. His eyes lock with Iris, and for a moment they gaze at each other before James quickly looks away.

James spots his father in the crowd, standing next to Otto, and runs to them, pulling the two into a hug.

"It's okay," his father's whispering. "It's okay, son."

The next few days are a blur to James: Packing up the household, moving to a never-before-used house in the Victor's Village, right next-door to Blight.. It's all so sudden that James spends a few days locked inside his bedroom, opening it only to accept meals from his father and Otto.

It takes two weeks for his first nightmare to hit him. In it, he relives Violet's murder over and over, and butchers Tybalt at least five times over before he screams himself awake. This time, it's not his father or Otto who opens the door, but Blight. The bearded victor rubs his back quietly, telling him to think of happy thoughts as James sobs.

"You're not alone," Blight whispers. "We're all here for you. Me and Eques and your family. We're all here. We're not leaving you."

"Promise?" James asks, his voice ragged.

"I promise," Blight says.

Three days later, James is eating in the dining room for the first time since he entered his new house when he hears a knock at the door. He rises, wearing only a tank-top, gym shorts, and socks, expecting it to be Blight.

Instead, he opens the door to find Iris, looking at him. She's dressed warmly for the August day: She's clad in only a yellow sundress and leather sandals. In her hands is a small basket. She looks at him with the same hazel eyes that looked at him back in the Justice Building an eternity ago.

"Hi," James greets.

"Hey," Iris says. "You still have the necklace."

James looks down to see she's right: He still has the silver necklace around his neck. He woke up from his nightmare clutching it. He laughs a short, breathy laugh. "I guess I do."

"I brought biscuits," Iris says, lifting the basket. After a moment, she asks, "Is it alright if I come in?"

James pauses before answering with a small smile, "Of course."

And the the girl with the auburn hair and the hazel eyes who gave him the necklace steps into his home.

Right then, James knows that everything is going to be okay.

* * *

 _Chapter 13! This is the epilogue, and I'd like to thank you all for the incredible support you've given throughout the whole story. I have almost 800 views as of writing this, and it really means a lot!  
_

 _I'm not sure I'll continue James' story, but I really liked writing this fic and will probably write another. Either one of those ones chronicling the entire history of the Games, or a submit-your-own tribute sort of thing. Who knows, James might make a cameo or two. Regardless, thank you all so much, and I'll see you soon :)_

 _-C_


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